The Space in Between
by Slow.Burn87
Summary: The infinitesimal shift in the tense lines of Rio's jaw tells her that he has seen the movement. Even as his hooded, black gaze continues to burn heatedly into her own. The tiniest flicker of a smile curves the corner of his beautiful lips as he raises an eyebrow and challenges again, "You think you got what it takes?" (Post Season 1 x 10)
1. Chapter 1

**The Space in Between**

"So, what do you think; you got what it takes?"

The weight of the gun shakes in her hand and Beth tightens her hold on the heavy base until her knuckles shine white. Blinking rapidly to dispel the gloss of tears that continue to spill down her cheeks, she glances frantically at the mutilated flesh of Dean's face before her gaze darts wildly back to Rio; the man and the monster.

Her stomach lurches sickly and she doesn't know whether her revulsion stems from the brutal violence that that her husband has suffered or from the fact that it was perpetrated by _him._

"Let him go," she repeats. The words that she had hoped to issue as a command come out chocked and pleading.

Rio laughs again, that dangerous, unhinged sound that belies his relaxed position and speaks of a fury simmering just below the surface.

"What, you afraid of havin' an audience? Ain't nobody gonna believe some white-assed, Stepford wife took me out without no witnesses."

"I never wanted to take you out," she whispers thickly, her mind abuzz with a million incoherent thoughts as she frantically tries to come to grips with the gun in her palm and the horrifying choice before her.

Bolting upright and starting around the table, Rio throws his arms wide in an exaggerated show of contrition, "Oh, I'm sorry sweetheart, I must have got you confused with that other basic bitch that tried to lock me away."

Beth chokes back a sob as he comes to a stop in front of her, the barrel of the gun resting lightly against the hard wall of his chest beneath the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

Up this close she can see in detail the bloody scrapes that mar the usually even tones of his honeyed skin; evidence that her husband does in fact have more fight in him than even she expected.

But the cuts are nothing compared to the swollen mess of Dean's face and she steels herself against any hint of pity, fighting to steady her arm as, for the first time, she slips her finger into the silky steel cradle of the trigger.

The infinitesimal shift in the tense lines of Rio's jaw tells her that he has seen the movement. Even as his hooded, black gaze continues to burn heatedly into her own. The tiniest flicker of a smile curves the corner of his beautiful lips as he raises an eyebrow and challenges again, "You think you got what it takes?"

He is the beginning and end of her focus now; all other detail of their surroundings fades into obscurity as Beth frantically considers it; _does she?_

Does she have what it will take to protect her family from this man?

Can she bring herself to level the gun at his head or his heart and pull the trigger?

Deep inside her something unnamed and fragile breaks, bringing with it a fresh wave of pain; surprising her in its presence and its intensity.

The tears continue to slip down her cheeks, unchecked.

"You were going to kill me," she whispers, hating the weak desperation in her voice, "You were going to kill us!"

Rio continues to watch her lazily and then, pursing his lips in quiet restraint, he asks softly, "Is that right?"

The silken caress of his voice wraps itself around her and the newly familiar intimacy of his leanly muscular body, so close to her own, distracts her from the echoes of white noise just long enough to cause the smallest kernel of doubt to blossom. Before the thought is even fully formed Beth is quashing it. Of course he was going to kill them, it had been plain to see in his unusually unguarded expression; the resolution, the finality and, yes, perhaps, even a little regret.

Despite his carefully neutral tone as he told her to go home she had known the truth; there was no walking away from this.

Hell, even if, for some insane reason Rio had experienced a crisis of conscience and was willing to give her a pass on each of her recent indiscretions (or _bitch-ass drama_ as he so charmingly put it), he couldn't afford to let something like this slide – not if he wanted to remain _king._ He could be facing up to fifteen years in prison for what she had done.

So, what the hell was he playing at?

She knows it is a test, yes, but what kind of test?

To pass is she supposed to pull the trigger?

Or is she supposed to lower the gun?

What if she fires and the chamber is empty?

What if she fires and it isn't?

Rio, looking increasingly amused with every moment of indecision that passes, is rocking lightly on his feet now, so that the barrel of the gun presses more firmly into his chest.

"You hopin' the suspense is gonna take me out instead?"

Keeping the gun pointed at a quizzical Rio, Beth takes a few shaky steps backwards until her calves hit the coffee table and, at the very last moment, she twists her arm to the right so that the nozzle of the gun is level with the sofa and then she squeezes the trigger.

There is an audible click and it takes Beth a number of stunned seconds to process that there had been no deafening gunshot and her sofa stands completely bullet-hole-free.

Dizzying relief floods her and, back in the recesses of her _white-ass, Stepford wife_ mind, she is giddily glad about the sofa too; it had cost them a fortune.

The sound of a slow clap brings her attention back to Rio who is sauntering slowly towards her, "Well played sweetheart," he takes the gun from her and continues, "But it still doesn't answer my question."

The adrenaline that had been keeping her upright begins to seep away and Beth feels as if she might faint. Exhaustion is numbing the jagged edges of her fear and she snaps tiredly, "Why don't you load it and find out?"

Dark eyes glittering dangerously, Rio pulls a loaded clip from his jeans and shoves it home. Another two seconds and the gun is cocked and pointed at Beth's head.

"Playtime's over. Let's go."

Her pulse thumps heavily at the at the base of her throat she breathes, "Where?"

Lips pealing back in a shark of a smile he gestures towards the kitchen. "Outside. I don't need no witnesses."

And just like that, the adrenaline is back; her breath freezes in her throat, her heart feels like it will explode from her chest and her stomach cramps with a sinking, sickening fear.

Through the dizzy haze that has descended on her mind she registers that Dean is beginning to stir, haltingly, painfully, from his slouched position on the table. "Beth–"

"Leave it Dean."

"Listen to Momma Dean," Rio drawls, "Else I'll come back here and finish what I started."

Knowing he means every word, Beth swallows thickly around the lump constricting her airway and casts one final look around the room. It's a complete mess but she almost doesn't see the chair lying jauntily on its side or the broken vase beneath the dining table. Instead, she sees the coffee table that Emma had used to pull herself up and take her first steps when she was just 11 months old. The beautiful sofa that she had purchased with the vision of hosting Sunday afternoon tea parties for friends and that just ended up hosting family movie nights and boozy catch ups with Ruby and Annie. And that had turned out to be so much better.

Then she looks at Dean and it's harder to ignore the damage that has been done to him, or the sharp flash of anger that rises within her as she remembers that he had lied to her about having cancer. _Dick._ Was it really just a few hours ago that she found that out?

But he's still the father of her children, the man that held her hand through each laborious moment of their births, and possibly the only parent that they would have after tonight was done.

"Take care of my babies."

Without waiting for a response, she chokes back the sob that is fighting for release and turns to head into the darkened kitchen. Moving through the shadows with Rio at her back she frantically casts around for a glimmer of hope – the barest outline of a plan – and there's nothing. Unlocking the backdoor with a shaking hand she asks thickly, "Where are we going?"

Silence.

She steps out onto the porch and reaches down to pet Buddy's soft head as he dances around her in excitement. Glancing back, she can see that Rio has paused to pull on a black hoody and is casting a watchful eye over her darkened backyard.

"Expecting company?" she asks tightly.

"Nah, just making sure you ain't leaving no hostages hog-tied in your treehouse," comes the sarcastic response.

She's too tightly wound to even consider how he knows about Boomer.

Waving the gun in the direction of her car he ushers her in to the driver's seat and takes the passenger side.

Knowing that her chances of making it back to her children in one piece will diminish significantly if she starts driving, Beth draws in a desperate breath and starts in a rush, "Rio, I know–"

She gasps into silence as the cold barrel of the gun comes to rest against the sensitive skin above her jugular.

"Just drive." He growls.

And, pulse hammering, she complies.

They drive in silence, save for the curt directions Rio grunts along the way. Beth thanks her lucky stars that it's late and that there aren't many cars on the road as her addled mind tries to concentrate on driving while fighting to ignore the fear gnawing at her stomach and the cold press of metal against her neck.

She wants to remind him that he had vowed not to kill anyone, just 15 minutes earlier at her own dining table, but she keeps silent. _What would be the point?_

Coming up to a stoplight a short time later she senses the tension in the tall frame beside her before she sees the cop car. It is waiting in the lane immediately to the right of the junction and Rio directs her to go straight ahead; a route which will bring them immediately in front of the car.

Approaching the junction, Beth scrambles to decide how to use the situation to her advantage. She could flash her lights, beep the horn, pull of an illegal turn or even crash directly into the cop car. _That would definitely do it!_

As she deliberates, Rio smoothly lowers the gun and leans in towards her, as if to bury his head in the curve of her neck or to whisper intimately in her ear.

Through the panicked haze that hasn't let up since she stepped through the front door to her house, to the sound of his cruelly beautiful voice taunting her, she understands logically that he is hiding his face from view. He is no less dangerous now than he was two seconds ago but her heart is suddenly hammering in her chest in a visceral response that has nothing to do with fear and everything do with the close press of his body against her own.

The warm smell of his skin, mixed with that musky cologne that is all Rio, wraps itself tightly around her. It takes Beth a moment to realise that he is actually whispering to her.

"Don't even think about it, darlin'."

The soft brush of his lips against the delicate shell of her ear as he speaks plunges her body into a heated chaos. Sensation and confusion war inside her until they're through the lights and, just as suddenly, Rio's pulling back to his side of the car.

He keeps the gun lowered. And, after a time, Beth recognises the route they're taking; it's the one that she had followed home from the warehouse a few days earlier – after she had thrown the keys in his face and he'd told her so coldly that they were done.

" _What me and you had is done. Over."_

And then, _"You think I need you? You ain't nothin' but a damn charity case to me."_

Hearing the echoes in her head she feels the spark within her, that shapeless, new-born, fragile thing, shrinking further back into the darkness, until she can almost convince herself that those words didn't slice into her like a hunting knife to the gut.

That they don't still.

Pulling into the loading bay she tries to clear her head as Rio exits the car and gestures casually with the barrel of his golden gun for Beth to follow.

Reluctantly, she forces herself to leave the relative comfort of her trusty MPV and casts a furtive look around the lot, hoping to see signs that there's someone else here; even if it is just one of his goons.

It's completely deserted. Much like the last time she was here, the length of the parking lot is encased in shadows, the only light pooling around the main entryway to the warehouse; a heavy metal door set a-top a flight of concrete steps that Rio is approaching.

He pauses now, turned towards her with one foot on the first step, hands buried deep in the pockets of his sweater, hood half raised over his head in that half-on/half-off style that drives Ruby crazy; the picture of cool composure. He watches with dark amusement as Beth locks the car remotely and forces herself forward.

Walking towards him she experiences a keen sense of déjà vu as her mind flashes once again to those cruel words that he had thrown at her, not unlike a bunch of jagged keys to the face, just two short days ago.

Steeling herself against the sharp twist insider her, against any emotion what so ever, she follows as Rio silently leads her up the stairs and through the door. There's a heavy clang of metal as it swings shut behind them, plunging them into absolute darkness, and Beth fumbles forward with outstretched hands only to jerk back as they connect with the cotton warmth of a leanly muscular torso.

There's a soft chuckle and an audible click before a flood of light into the small space they're standing in.

The hallway is narrow and bare, leading straight ahead to a set of metal stairs while an empty doorway to the right leads into the cavernous depths of the warehouse.

Too mentally and emotionally exhausted to play games, Beth fixes Rio with a wide-eyed stare and asks tiredly, "What are we doing here, Rio?"

"What, you don't like surprises? Just imagine mine when I was pulled over by some punk-assed cop before I'd even had my morning coffee."

His tone is relaxed, soft even, and he pulls off that _'couldn't give a fuck'_ look so well that if she didn't know him better she might have been fooled. But the dark undercurrent of anger that has been dogging him all night is there in the tight clench of his jaw and the deep groves of tension around his mouth.

Her stomach drops unexpectedly at the mental image of his arrest. Sure, she had seen him on TV – had watched the indignity of him being led to the police car in handcuffs – and he had looked as cool and composed as if he _was_ just heading into a diner for his morning coffee. But she could only imagine what had been going on beneath the surface.

And then she remembers all of the panicked thoughts that had terrorised her over the last few days. Thoughts that had kept her up at night and are still circling now; each and every one of them about her four sweet babies growing up without their mother.

And just like that, she hardens, smiles tightly. "What's that they say about how the mighty are fallen?"

A twist of a smile in return.

"Don't know about that, darlin' – do I look fallen to you?"

Without waiting for her response, he gestures for her to start up the stairs. It's a short flight to the top which leads to a small, non-descript office. Flicking on the lights as she enters, Beth can see that the walls are painted white and there's a large window along the right-had side of the space, overlooking the darkened warehouse below. A couple of comfortable leather chairs, a solid-wood desk and a laptop are the only things in sight.

Closing the door behind him, Rio rounds the desk to lower himself into a black-leather desk chair, grimacing slightly as he does so.

Beth wonders absentmindedly if it was the cops or Dean that had done the damage as Rio removes the gun from the waist of his jeans and sets it down on the desk with a heavy thunk.

 _The cops_ , she thinks decisively.

"Have a seat, Elizabeth."

Her name on his lips has her heart leaping uncomfortably in her breast as she moves to take a seat in front of the desk and the barrel of his loaded gun.

"So, I have this problem employee," he begins, "– ex-employee – that's tryin' to take over my business."

"That's not–"

Rio raises a hand and his voice and continues, "See, this bitch is some green-as-shit intern that fancies herself a boss and she's been causing trouble since the day she showed up. Hell, I don't know what I was thinkin' hiring her ass in the first place but she's got four kinds, you know? And a self-destruct button she's just itchin' to press."

He lets that sit in the air between them briefly, uncomfortably, before continuing, "And she's got this suburban life, see; this middle-class camouflage that I thought could be useful."

There's another pause then as he leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk, his bloodied hands clasped loosely below his chin, and he watches her.

Beth fights the urge to shift uncomfortably in her seat, to fill the silence with a truthful defence of her actions but she is determined not to play along with whatever charade he thinks he's orchestrating.

And then she does.

"She sounds like a model employee for a street gang."

"You think so? Cause I ain't so sure. She has this habit, see, of actin' without thinkin' things through–"

"Sure sounds like you have her all figured out," Beth interrupts and he smiles, briefly.

"And, in the end, she couldn't handle it; she freaked out and turned me in to the Feds. But it was a sloppy job – some half-assed shit that won't stick for two seconds – but now? Now I have to handle it."

Holding the dark intensity of his gaze, Beth blinks to dispel the haze of tears rising behind her eyelids. Her pulse thuds heavily in her throat and the fear gnawing at her insides has surely hollowed her out to an empty shell but still she holds his eye.

He breaks first. Laughs hollowly, eyes dropping down and away with a twisted smile and then they are pinning her once again.

"You know how somethin' like that gets handled?"

She doesn't answer, has to blink more rapidly now; the teary haze replaced by a silent trickle and then a steady stream down her the pale cream of her cheeks.

"Cause I'm not sure she does. Maybe she thinks her suburban camouflage will protect her; her white privilege. Or maybe she thinks with a face like that, a body like that – with those tits and that ass – ain't no man gonna wanna' hurt her."

Frozen in fear, Beth can't do anything but stare back at him and simply exist in this moment – waiting for what is to come.

"But see, in this line of work? It don't matter if you've got the face of an angel or a first-row seat at church on Sunday; out here it's survival of the fittest and someone that sells you out to the Feds? They're the lowest of the low – the very bottom of the food chain – and they ain't goanna survive for long."

Sensing the conversation is almost at an end, Beth tries to steel herself against the next part. She hopes it will be quick and relatively painless and that no one else will have to suffer. If she thought that there was some way that she could talk or scheme her way out of this, without her family paying the price, then she would take it. But, finally, she knows better.

"It was my idea," she lies, her voice coming out rough and choked and she has to clear her throat before continuing, "Leave Annie and Ruby out of it; it was all me."

"Oh, this ain't a negotiation, sweetheart; there's a heavy price to pay for the shit you ladies pulled."

"Please Rio," she's begging now, her cheeks slick and throat thick with tears that just won't stop. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't hurt them."

He fixes her with an intense stare that is at once deeply personal and yet achingly distant. _This is it_ , she thinks, as he gets out of his chair and comes around the table towards her.

He hasn't picked up the gun yet but he's standing in front of her now, leaning down to grasp the back of her neck in a firm hold. His thumb brushes over the erratic flutter of her pulse as he pulls her head towards his own until there's mere inches separating them. His breath is warm on her tear-streaked face and the dark intensity of his gaze is so close to her own that she could almost count every one of his beautifully long lashes.

"This might just be the luckiest day of your life, sweetheart, because there is somethin' I need from you."

Her shattered mind has barely grasped the implication of his words before he's murmuring again, in deep and dangerous tones, "But Elizabeth? You _ever_ pull this shit with me again and there won't be no savin' you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The sound of the front door banging closed echoes through the house and Beth is jolted awake. Squinting through swollen eyes at the clock on the dresser, she is surprised to see that it is already 09.24am. She can't remember the last time that she slept this late – why hadn't the kids woken her up hours ago?

And then it all comes back to her. The kids are at their Grandma's house and Dean must be on his way to pick them up.

Dean. Who doesn't have cancer but does have a temporarily messed up face.

Which brings her on to Rio.

Closing her eyes tiredly, she thinks back to the silent journey home from the warehouse the night before. He drove, which was just as well because Beth knew she hadn't been in any condition to operate heavy machinery. He hadn't said anything further about why he let her off or what he wants her to do – hadn't said much of anything at all until they pulled into her driveway and he handed back the keys with a gruff "Get some sleep."

Then he was gone and she was walking dazedly through her front door, passed the smothering weight of Dean's relief and his endless stream of questions, and in to her bedroom to collapse on the bed in utter exhaustion.

Shifting stiffly, she realises that she's still wearing her clothes from the day before – the fitted back shirt and black skinny jeans – and that they do _not_ make for comfortable sleepwear. Suddenly desperate to be out of the clothes, to shower the remnants of yesterday from her body, she drags herself out of bed and stumbles towards the bathroom.

Half an hour later, showered and dressed in dark blue jeans and a fitted maroon sweater, she _does_ feel better – even if 'better' in this case is a relative term that could just as easily be described as 'slightly less crap'.

She's just poured herself a steaming mug of coffee when the back door opens and Annie is there, waving a smiling Sadie off towards the TV in the sitting room and making a beeline for the fresh pot of coffee on the counter.

"Morning! I know that the kids probably aren't back yet but we have _severe_ cabin fever and we can't exactly head into town for the day. And I feel like there's got to be safety in numbers, right?"

Turning back towards Beth with her nose buried in her mug Annie adds, "Plus, I forgot to buy coffee."

Drinking in the sight of her sister and the comforting familiarity of the scene, Beth can feel herself tearing up and she tries to keep her face averted as she busies herself with clearing a space at the counter for Annie to sit down.

"Beth?"

The shocked worry in Annie's voice tells her she's busted. And then it all comes tumbling out.

By the end of it she's laughing, using stiff kitchen paper to wipe the last of the tears from her eyes, as she says, "Look at me; reduced to a blubbering mess – this is not me!"

"No," Annie agrees, "But if there was ever a time to indulge in a little self-pity, this is it."

Beth chokes on an indignant laugh and Annie hastily clarifies, "Not that being upset because your scumbag husband lied about having cancer and you almost got " _handled_ " by Gang Friend is really self-pity," there's a pause as she grasps for the right words, "Self-preservation, maybe?"

"Maybe," smiles Beth, finishing her coffee and rinsing her mug at the sink.

"So what do you think he wants you to do?"

"I have no idea," Beth sighs, "At this stage it could literally be anything."

Mulling it over Annie asks, "Why do you think he brought you to the warehouse? What was that about? He could have just talked to you here. Even if it was in front of _Deansie_."

Sobering at the thought of the warehouse, Beth considers it briefly before replying, "There was this whole 'bold employee' vibe, like I was being hauled in to the boss's office to get told off, but underneath it all I think he was just trying to scare me."

"Dick!" exclaims Annie and Beth just smiles.

What she doesn't mention is that, really, it was a warning – a lesson, not unlike those Rio had taught her in the past – and potentially one that had, and would, save their lives. They had been painfully naïve to think that they could take on the leader of a street gang and live to tell the tale. But when it comes to protecting her family there's little that Beth wouldn't do, or even do again, if it comes to that.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

The rest of the day passes in a blur of activity as the children get home with Dean and then there's two realities that Beth is trying to exist authentically in; the one where she's helping Danny to find the head off his Iron Man Lego figure for the tenth time this month; she's putting on Frozen for Jane and Emma (for possibly the hundredth time); and talking to Kenny about his friend Lauren's birthday party the following day. And then there's the other one where she's pulling stacks of clothing from the cupboards and dressers and piling them into suitcases as Dean stands helplessly by and tries to talk her out of it.

They're standing in her bedroom, what used to be _their_ bedroom, and Dean is watching from just inside the door, his imploring, puppy-dog eyes, made all the more effective for the swelling and bruising surrounding them.

"Beth, please listen to me, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." His voice breaks and he has to clear his throat to continue. "I knew I'd fucked up and I could see that I was losing you and I just thought…"

He trails off and Beth pauses while piling a stack of his cotton pyjamas into a suitcase to say, "You thought that if you had cancer, I'd forget about all of the ways that you've betrayed our marriage and that I'd remember why I used to love you?"

He winces as if she's landed a physical blow and she knows that she should lower her voice so that the kids don't hear. But the anger, the white hot fury that she feels towards him, is so intense that she can't help but continue. "Or was it even more simple than that? Maybe you just wanted to use your _"failing health"_ to manipulate me into letting you stay in the house?"

Dean is crying now and Beth feels her own heart cracking wide open in her chest; breaking for everything that they had shared in their twenty years of marriage and, perhaps even more painfully, for everything that they would no longer share.

But, just as there was no walking away from some things, there was also no going back to others. And as much as she might wish that there was at least the glimmer of the option of a way back for herself and Dean, she knows that, at this particular moment in time, she is done.

"I need you to leave," she says thickly, "Go and stay at your mother's and we'll sort out the schedules another time."

That he doesn't fight her any further suggests that he can see the realisation that she has come to and he merely dashes a shaky hand across his eyes before slipping quietly from the room.

Unable to give in to the wave of emotion that is poised above her, waiting to crash down and break itself against the wreckage of her marriage, Beth continues methodically with the task at hand. And, when she feels adequately composed, she returns to the sitting room and that other reality of super heroes and princesses and happily ever afters.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

By Wednesday, she has a good routine worked out with the kids. Not that it's so very different to how it was when Dean was living at home but she's doing both of the school runs now and all of the ferrying back and forth to football and ballet and kick-boxing, and every other activity that her little troop participates in.

Dean has stayed away since Saturday and she's grateful. The distance has allowed her make space in her mind for this new reality before her and to take the first trembling steps towards it.

After the turmoil of the previous week, _hell, the_ _pervious few months_ , Beth is glad of the time that she has at home and genuinely cherishes each moment that she gets to spend with her sweet babies. For once, she doesn't even miss the thrill of running her own little slice of Rio's business – content to focus on the family that needs her now more than ever.

But she can't help wondering when Rio will be back in touch about the mystery job that he wants her to do. She's surprised that it's been five days already and there hasn't been a single sign of himself or his men in her life.

Setting the grocery bags down heavily on the kitchen island and beginning work on putting everything away, Beth thinks that perhaps that's the way it will be going forward; that herself, Ruby and Annie are now truly on the outs with the gang and that whatever it is that Rio wants her to do will be completely separate. Pausing in the act of loading three bottles of white wine into the refrigerator, she considers briefly how she feels about that before consciously directing her thoughts elsewhere. Ruby is coming over this evening and Beth is looking forward to finding out how things are going with Stan – something she hasn't had the opportunity to do over the last number of days, outside of the occasional, hurried WhatsApp conversation.

Her heart almost stops as she closes the refrigerator door and sees a familiar figure leaning up against the bookshelf in her kitchen, wearing a black bomber jacket and a buttoned-up navy shirt in the usual contradiction of casual/formal style that suits him so well.

Rio slips his hands out of his jacket pockets and takes a step forward.

Holding her ground, when every cell in her body is screaming at her beat a hasty retreat, Beth watches, breath caught, as he pulls out a stool at the end of the counter and leans back against it. He's fixing her with that intensely penetrating stare that makes her feel as if he can see into her soul.

"That job I need you to do for me?"

He pauses and she waits for the delivery, knowing it is not going to be good.

"I need an alibi."

She blinks at him before forcing herself to walk back behind the counter and continue calmly taking items out of the bags and storing them away.

"For what?" she asks lightly.

"Nothin' you need to worry about."

Flicking her wide gaze back to him, she hastily stows away the rest of the groceries and comes to stand across the counter from him. Absorbing his words, his stance, his features, she realises that he's always been stoic, sarcastic and dismissive in his interaction with her but there's something else now, a new distance, that speaks of the loss of something that she hadn't realised was there until it was gone.

Clamping down on the swift stab of hurt that darts through her, Beth tries again.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Say I was here. With you."

Her heart kicks lightly in her chest and Beth has to stop herself from jumping to sordid conclusions about to what he's suggesting.

"Doing what?"

A twist of a smile. "You."

Heart hammering now, she feels a flood of colour sweeping across her cheeks as she takes this in.

He continues to eye her coolly.

"Why?" she breaths, "I mean, why that? Why me?"

A slow smile before he answers. "You spoke to that Fed about me before, right? Agent Turner?"

She can feel her cheeks deepening in colour as she recalls the details of that particular conversation. "Yes."

"So, he already thinks there's a history there. And this alibi will sound a whole lot more convincing coming from Mrs Cleaver than Jenny from the block."

Surprised by the hot flash of emotion that flares in response to this, one that feels an awful lot like jealousy, Beth asks levelly, "What do you want me to say?"

He laughs softly, suggestively, but all he says is, "That I was here, last Tuesday. That I arrived around 11.45am, stayed for two hours and then left. Simple as that."

It's Beth's turn to laugh. "You clearly don't know Agent Turner; he's going to need more than that."

Voice alight with curious amusement he asks sceptically, "Oh yeah? What'd you tell him the last time?"

Cursing herself, Beth fights to hold his gaze as the flame rises in her cheeks again and she casts frantically around for a flippant response that will satisfy him. Trying to ignore the memory of the description that she had given to Agent Turner, and the images it conjures, she comes up blank and stays silent. Much to Rio's increased amusement.

He laughs openly now and drawls, "Come on, sweetheart, if we do this we're gonna have to make sure we're singin' from the same hymn sheet."

Smarting internally at the sting of his laughter and wishing that her embarrassment wasn't so transparent, Beth thinks, _fuck it, let him have it; go hard or go home, right?_

"I told him that we met at a bar," she begins, and he nods with amusement for her to go on.

"It was morning time, right after the school run, and I was feeling reckless and sorry for myself because I'd just found out that my husband was cheating on me, with a girl young enough to be his daughter."

Rio's smile fades as she continues.

"We had a drink and I invited you back here. We had some more to drink and then you kissed me."

A pause.

"I kissed you back and pulled off your t-shirt."

She takes a breath, tilts her head back, and he's watching her intently now, all trace of amusement gone.

"I was wearing a dress and you trailed your hands up my thighs to pull my panties down. Then we fucked on the dining table – on top of the breakfast dishes."

When she stops speaking the silence is deafening; fraught with a tension so thick she can almost taste it – can almost smell the sensual musk of their imagined, spent bodies, in the room next door.

In front of her, Rio's beautiful face is drawn, his jaw clenched harshly, and there's a light flush dusting the honeyed skin of his cheekbones that has nothing to do with embarrassment.

Pulse thundering heavily in her throat, Beth continues to hold his gaze; challenging him, daring him, to laugh.

The heated intensity of the connection is broken as Rio clears his throat thickly and looks away.

When he speaks it's not what she expects to hear and the words serve as the metaphorical cold shower that she so badly needs.

"He really do that; your husband?"

She understands that he's asking about the affair.

"Yes."

He nods, leans forward on the counter, and says seriously, "Man's an idiot."

There's a soft huff of surprised laughter as Beth agrees drily, "Yeah, he is."

Rio's standing up now, heading for the front door and then he's calling back to her across the open space and her pulse is stuttering again.

"Next time – with Agent Turner – tell him we fucked in the kitchen, up against the counter, and then again in the shower."

A pause, a flash of a smile, and then, "You can fill me in on the detail after."

Long after the front door has closed behind him, Beth is still standing at the counter, breath caught in her throat; her whole body in flames.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

"You said what?!" Ruby squeals, "To Agent Turner?! And to Rio?! Who even are you?!"

Beth laughs self-consciously and takes a gulp of her chilled, white wine. "Shh, keep your voice down, Kenny's definitely still awake up there."

Although she had planned on this evening being all about Ruby, it had been clear that Ruby needed some time before she was ready to talk about Stan and Beth had settled on telling her about Rio's visit – knowing that she would just _love_ this particular story.

"Girl please; this is the most action that you've gotten in months and we are going to discuss each and every minute of it. Real or imagined!"

Colouring slightly at the memory Beth laughs again, "Oh, it was definitely all imagined. And I'm still surprised that Agent Turner bought it; I mean, he must be 10 years younger than me."

Gesturing with her own wineglass Ruby demands loudly, "So? Age-gap love is all the rage these days. Not that Rio's someone you'd want to go falling in love with – but for a bit of fun in the sack? Honey; I bet that man could make a sister come faster than you can say 'blueberry pancakes."

Beth slaps her lightly on the arm and Ruby laughs in delight, "Shit; I still can't believe you said that!"

"Hopefully this will be the very last time that I do ever say it!" Beth exclaims, meaning every word. "I have no idea how I'm going to go back to Agent Turner and tell him that it happened again. Twice!"

" _I'm sure you'll think of somethin'."_ Remembering Rio's words and his cheeky smile the first time that they had had that conversation, it's all Beth can do to keep her focus on Ruby and not give in to the teenage temptation to replay each moment of today's visit in her mind, from start to finish.

Ruby is fanning herself as she says, "If you need a hand composing that steamy shower scene? You just let me know!"

As their mingled laughter dies down Beth asks, "What do you think he needs an alibi for?"

"Nothing good, that's for sure. Do you think it's got to do with that kid that the Feds had? What's his name – Eddie?"

Beth takes another sip of her wine and nods her agreement. "Maybe. The timing sounds like it could be right."

"So when do you go in?"

"I don't know," she sighs, "I guess I just wait for a call." She pauses as she fixes Ruby with a sympathetic look and says, "But anyway, enough about that, how are _you_?"

Ruby smiles crookedly, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, "Oh, you know; never been better!"

There's a taught, emotional moment as Ruby collects herself.

"He hasn't spoken to me in days. Not properly anyway. He tries to act normal in front of the kids but even they know that something's not right. But Sarah's doing so well you know? And I can't find it in me to say I'd do things differently if I had the choice."

And there it is, the very heart of the problem, because it would be one thing if Ruby could truthfully say that she had made a mistake – one that she had learned from and that she would never make again – but when it comes to her children, there is very little she would not do.

Wanting to reassure her, but also to be realistic about the seriousness of the crisis facing her friend's marriage, Beth says, "Just give him time. Hopefully he will come to see that every single thing you did was for your family. And that, if it came down to it, he might just do the very same thing."

Ruby is smiling sadly. "He wouldn't though, he's much too honest for that."

"But can he really hold it against you? I mean, when it probably saved Sarah's life? Surely he'll get some perspective on it once the initial anger dies down."

Voice wobbling Ruby answers, "I don't think he'll hold it against me for long, he knows how screwed we were and how badly Sarah needed that kidney, but that doesn't mean he'll still want me as his wife."

As she dissolves into tears Beth quickly sets their wine glasses down on the coffee table and slips her arms around Ruby, to hold her as she cries.

And above Ruby's head her own face is wet with tears.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

The call comes in the next day – Agent Turner telling her that he needs to see her at his office. Beth is just out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her body and another one coiled around her hair, and she burrows her toes into the soft carpet of her bedroom as she tries to play it cool.

"What is this about?" she asks.

"I'd prefer to talk to about that in person. Are you available to come by this morning?"

Clamping down on the sharp pang of anxiety that churns her stomach, Beth considers quickly if she should put him off until tomorrow – would she perform better today with less preparation and less time to worry or would she do better with more time to practice her speech?

"Sure; I can meet you at 11.00. See you then, Agent Turner."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sitting across from Agent Turner, Beth does her best to stay calm and portray an air of mild curiosity, underlined with slight impatience.

"What can I do for you Agent Turner?"

Turner levels her with an unreadable look. "I want to talk to you about what you were doing last Tuesday."

Laughing lightly, she asks, "Am I in some sort of trouble?"

"Why don't you tell me," comes the cool response.

Giving him her best look of wide-eyed innocence, she pretends to think back to last Tuesday.

"I was at home for most of the day. Some of my girlfriends came over in the afternoon and then I think…" she trails off, trying to recall the details, "Yes, we went for a drive that evening because my husband was home and my sister needed space to talk about her ex."

Agent Turner watches her impassively, waiting for her to continue.

Beth just smiles blankly and remains silent.

"So," he prompts, "Your husband was home?"

"Yes."

"For the whole day?"

"No, he works fulltime so he only got home around 7."

"And was there anyone else at your house that day, apart from your family and your girlfriends?"

The memory of Rio's voice whispers through her mind, _"Tell him we fucked in the kitchen, up against the counter, and then again in the shower,"_ and the colour that rises to her cheeks is genuine.

A flicker in Turner's eyes tells her that the flush hasn't gone unnoticed. _Good,_ she thinks, as she prepares to take her performance up a notch.

"There was one other person," she murmurs, looking down and away in an apparent show of embarrassment. "The guy that we spoke about before – Rio – he was there for a couple of hours."

Turner raises an eyebrow and says evenly, "You seemed pretty adamant the last time we spoke that that you weren't going to be seeing him again."

"Well I hadn't intended on it. And then it just sort of… happened."

Tilting her chin up in challenge she dares him to patronise her.

"Was this the first time, after the first time?" he asks with a smirk.

There's something about his too casual tone that has the hairs raising at the back of her neck. Thinking through her options at lightning speed she replies, "No. There was a couple of other times before last week."

A pause and then she asks tartly, "Do you want to tell me what this is all about Agent Turner? Or are you just interested in hearing about my sex life?"

He has the grace to smile at that as he answers, "I'm trying to determine that man's, _Rio's_ , whereabouts last Tuesday; to create a timeline of his movements. Can you tell me what time he arrived at your house and how long he stayed?"

Her breath comes a little faster now as they edge closer to the heart of itand she pauses to consider this before answering, "He arrived around mid-day, probably just a little before, and he stayed for maybe two hours – give or take."

Turner is watching her closely with a coolly, unreadable expression on his bland face. "And, for the record, what were you doing together while he was at your house?"

Smiling, despite her genuine discomfort, Beth replies brightly, "Sex. We were having sex, Agent Turner."

He inclines his head in acknowledgement and asks sceptically, "For the whole two hours?"

Heat surges at the thought and Beth is slightly breathless when she replies. "Yes. Well, mostly; we were showering – after the first time and then–" she pauses again, looking down modestly at her hands as she searching for the right words, "Then there was the second time."

"I see," says Turner, "And then he left?"

"Yes."

"And he didn't return that day?"

"No."

"Has he been back to your house since last Tuesday?"

There's the tiniest shift in his body language as he asks this, as if he has leaned slightly forward in anticipation, and suddenly a deep apprehension is spiralling through her and the little voice in her head is telling her to be very, very careful.

"Yes," she answers calmly, "He came to see me yesterday."

Turner's expression doesn't change but Beth has the sinking feeling that he already knows that. A pit of anxiety opens in her stomach and it takes everything that she has to maintain her relaxed façade.

"Let's assume I understand why he was there," says Turner.

There's a pause and the tension inside her winds tighter as she considers the implications of this conversation; that someone had been watching Rio; watching her house; watching _her._ That Agent Turner doesn't believe a word she's saying.

"Did he stay for long?" Turner asks innocently.

Hyper-aware that what she says in these next few seconds could make or break Rio's alibi, and her own credibility, Beth laughs softly and answers, "Um, no. We didn't have a lot of time and so yesterday was less about the sex and more about… foreplay. For him."

She holds Turner's eye boldly as her words hang in the air between them. She sees him examining her more closely now and is glad that she made the effort to dress in something a little more sexy than her usual mom-jeans and a sweater. The soft, forest-green shirt sits snugly against her curves and the tight black jeans that she's paired it with cling to the soft lines of her thighs before tapering down into her calf-length, heeled black boots.

Parting her lips slightly, she watches as Agent Turner's eyes dip towards them, his Adam's apple bobbing thickly in his throat.

 _Yeah, he can picture it,_ she thinks dryly.

But then, so can she. Her heartbeat is an erratic tattoo in her chest as her own body responds to the image that is forming; of Rio, leaning back against a stool at her kitchen counter, and her, looking up at him from her knees.

"So," she asks brightly, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears, "Is that everything you need from me?"

"Yes, I think it is," replies Turner smoothly, "But Mrs Boland? This guy – he really isn't someone that a nice lady like you wants in their life."

Gathering her things and standing to leave, Beth smiles sweetly, "Thank you for the concern, Agent Turner."

\/\/\/\/\/\/

Too wound up to go immediately home, Beth drives to a local café and orders a latte to drink while she frantically considers the implications of her meeting with Agent Turner. Clearly the Feds are having Rio followed and her immediate thought is to get in touch with him. But then, he had told her before, on no uncertain terms, that the Feds don't bother him.

And then again, if that was the case, why did he need this alibi? And why does he need it to be so air-tight that he has her lying to the FBI for him?

Her second thought was that even if she did need to contact Rio about this, the Feds could be waiting for her to do just that – they had been watching her house, so what is to say that they aren't watching her now; waiting for her to make a move that will implicate both Rio and herself in a conspiracy to falsify and alibi. Glancing around at the other patrons of the café she very much doubts that any of them are FBI but what does she know?

And then there's the whole issue of her fictional relationship with Rio, that, in an attempt to support his alibi, had grown a whole lot more substance today than Beth is comfortable with. If the Feds weren't interested in who Rio was having casual one-night stands with, they sure as hell would be interested in someone that he was seeing on a regular basis. So she can only assume that her home will continue to be watched. And that will _not_ be good for business.

 _What business?_ She thinks than, sighing. It doesn't appear as if Rio has any intention of allowing them back in and besides, she's not sure Ruby, or her marriage, could handle it if he did.

Draining the rest of her coffee, she decides firmly not to contact Rio with an update; he can come to her if he wants one. And when he does, she's going to need him to be a lot more forthcoming than he has been.

\/\/\/\/\/

Eight days later, Beth's patience is well and truly wearing thin. There has been no contact from Rio and she's actually beginning to worry that something might have happened to him. Pouring potato chips and dips into various bowls on the kitchen counter, she tries and fails to fully dismiss the thought. It's not as if Rio's boys would let her know if he did get brought down by the Feds – or worse – particularly after her recent stunt at the 'Fine and Frugal'.

And more distracting than the worry itself is the uncomfortable, unshakable confusion over why she even cares. She can keep telling herself that she's merely looking out for her business interests but the fact that she's still questioning it suggests otherwise.

If she hadn't suspected that the FBI might be watching her every move, she would have gone to the warehouse (assuming Rio was still using the most recent one) or tried to call him on his burner (assuming that the number she had was still in use). But she has been going about her daily life with an increased paranoia, seeing Special Agents in every stranger that she comes across, and both of those options seem too risky.

There had been a black BMW parked, suspiciously, up the street from her house the other day and Beth had spent an inordinate amount of time peering out the window, from behind the curtains of Jane and Emma's bedroom, only to find out that it belonged to the father of one of her neighbours. That was four hours of her life that she is never getting back.

Smiling as she hears a commotion at the front door, she picks up the bowls and carries them through to the living room. Two seconds later she's greeted by an ear-splitting screech as Annie marches into the room followed by an eye-rolling Ruby.

"Beth! You never told me about the fantasy sex with Gang Friend!"

"And this would be why," says Beth drily, placing the chips on the coffee table and asking, "Is this a wine or whiskey night?"

"Wine!" says Ruby, "Definitely wine."

"Well we can definitely _start_ with wine," agrees Annie, as she bustles off to the kitchen for the glasses.

Ruby sits down on the couch next to where Beth has just collapsed and whispers, "I'm sorry – I had to tell her – only to spare you having to go through it again, of course."

"Of course," she laughs, "Thanks for that."

"Any time!" smiles Ruby and it does Beth's heart good to see her so cheerful.

Once Annie is back and they all have a glass of wine in hand, Ruby leans forward, a serious look settling over her face.

"So, we haven't really gotten the chance to catch up properly on your little chat with Agent Turner," she pauses dramatically and wriggles her eyebrow at Beth, "Did you come up with a good scenario for the shower sex?"

Leaning back comfortably into the sofa, Beth can't help but laugh as she takes in the excited expectation radiating from her sister and her best friend. "I hate to burst your bubble, but it was a lot more PG13 this time."

Knowing that they are expecting more, she feels suddenly, strangely protective of the one area of the conversation that had verged on explicit – as if the kitchen-stool fantasy had been a private, intimate act that she had actually shared with a lover – and she knows that it's not going to be something that they talk and laugh over this evening.

But, seeing the disappointment on their faces, she eventfully caves and gives them a _little_ more detail, "I mean Agent Turner did ask if we were having sex for the full two hours so I _had_ to mention the shower thing."

"I bet Gang Friend could go for ten," says Annie mournfully, "What a waste."

"Waste?" asks Ruby in confusion.

"Well, he's clearly boning someone but it's sadly not me – so yes; a waste."

Beth laughs, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twist in her stomach, as she says reproachfully, "Annie! Is no one safe from you?"

"Safe?! He should be so lucky. And come on, are you trying to say that outside of this fantasy game you're playing with Agent Turner and Rio that you haven't thought about it?"

Colouring slightly she takes a sip of her wine and answers, "No, actually, I haven't."

"Liar!" sings Ruby, "But that's fine, "I'm sure Annie's doing enough fantasising for all three of us."

Annie gives her a mocking salute with her wine glass, "Just taking one for the team!"

\/\/\/\/\/

A couple of hours later, Beth finishes loading the dishwasher and pours herself one final glass of wine. Taking it through to the family room, she settles back on to the couch with her new book and thinks over the evening with Ruby and Annie.

It had been a good night; she'd laughed more than she had in weeks, and she hadn't realised just how badly that she needed it.

But now that they're gone the house seems deathly quiet; the kids are staying with Dean for the weekend she isn't sure how she's going to fill the seemingly endless hours until they're back on Sunday.

Opening her book at the marker, she pauses as the barest whisper of a movement sounds in the empty house behind her. And then, in the next moment, Rio is there; walking towards her out of the darkened kitchen.

"By all means, just let yourself in," she laughs indignantly; more amused than annoyed and knowing she's in deep trouble.

Rio doesn't react and merely comes to stand at the foot of the coffee table, hands thrust deep in to the pockets of his black bomber jacket as he eyes her distantly.

"So, how'd it go with the Feds?"

There's a 'no-bullshit' edge to his words and Beth blinks in surprise. Examining him a little more closely now she can see that he looks distracted; tense in a way that she hasn't seen before. He's wearing his usual closed, enigmatic expression but the tick at the side of his jaw and the tension around his eyes tell their own story.

Suddenly very glad that she's only just starting into her third glass of wine and that she has all of her mental faculties (well, most of them anyway), she answers truthfully, "It was fine – for the most part."

When he raises his eyebrows impatiently she sighs, "Look, I don't know if he bought it – I think he did but who knows with these guys."

He's nodding, already turning to leave when she calls out, "I think they're watching you."

Pausing, he turns back towards her and says tiredly, "They're always watchin' me, darlin'."

"Well this time, they were watching you while you were here."

"How'd you figure?" he asks, his focus on her a little sharper than before.

"Again, I can't know for sure, but there was something in Turner's body language that suggested it. He had a lot of questions about how many times you've been here and when I'd seen you last. And there was something in the way that he asked that suggested he already knew."

She has his undivided attention now as he asks quietly, "And what did you tell him?"

"I had to make it sound believable; I couldn't sit there and tell him that we had two convenient one-night stands – one of them while a crime was being committed by someone that he obviously thinks was you. And he knew that you'd been here the day before I turned up to deliver your alibi – how suspicious does that look? He's an FBI Agent, Rio."

Pursing his lips with a quiet restraint that tells her he's holding himself tightly in check, he asks in slow, deliberate tones, "So, what did you tell him?"

His attitude is seriously beginning to grate and Beth pauses defiantly, allowing the silence to stretch taut between them, before replying, "I told him that you'd been here a couple of times, including that Tuesday and the day before that meeting."

He stays silent and she continues impatiently, "He knew anyway Rio – he set up that question as if expecting me to lie."

He nods. Rasps a hand over the harsh line of his jaw. "I see," he says flatly. "And while I was here, he thinks that we were…"

"Fucking; yes."

Her words are loud and brash in the intimacy of the softly lit room and the echoes of the empty house. As soon as they're out there's a tell-tale flush sweeping up her throat but Beth ignores it and continues to hold his gaze as he stares down at her with those fierce, dark eyes.

Rio's voice, in contrast, is dangerously soft as he asks her, "And now the FBI thinks that you and me – we have somethin'?"

Anger flares hotly in her chest and she snaps, "And that upsets you?! It was your idea Rio – if this embarrasses you or if you have someone–"

"Nah," he laughs darkly, shaking his head, "You don't get it!"

He's talking to her as if she is a child, his voice getting increasingly louder as he continues harshly, "If the Feds weren't watchin' you before? They are now – no question. And maybe not just the Feds neither – you don't even wanna know what some people are willin' to do to get to me."

He wheels away abruptly, hand rasping over the coarse stubble of his jaw, and Beth watches, wide-eyed and helpless, as her anger and confusion gives way to a fearful comprehension.

When Rio circles back a moment later, she searches his face for some semblance of reassurance finds none.

When he speaks again his voice is completely devoid of emotion as he spells it out for her.

"Being connected to me like that – on a personal level? That makes you a target, Elizabeth."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Stunned into utter silence, Beth is staring vacantly at the empty fireplace and doesn't even see the movement as Rio walks around the coffee table, throws himself into the armchair beside her and slumps forward; arms resting on his knees, head hanging heavily before him.

"Last damn thing I need," he mutters tiredly.

Another beat or two passes, in which all she can hear is the word _target_ ricocheting around her head, before his words register on the periphery of her frazzled mind.

Emitting a strangled sound, half-way between a laugh and a sob, she rounds on him, incredulous, "The last thing _you_ need?"

He's raising his head slowly to look at her, face closing over and those deep, dark eyes flashing a warning; _tread carefully, sweetheart._

Too shocked and angry and afraid to even think about reigning herself in, she's almost shouting as she continues, "I'm sorry that buying your freedom at the cost of my safety – possibly my _life_ – is such an inconvenience to you!"

As she talks, there's a stillness settling over him, the kind of immobility assumed by a lethal predator before it strikes the killing blow, but she's too tightly wound to pay attention to anything other than the fear and the venom coursing through her veins.

"God Rio, have you been in this warped world for so long that people's lives really mean so little to you? Someone gets in your way or screws you over and you just "handle" them? You know what? Most people handle things differently; they don't assume they have the right to make decisions about other peoples' lives – to _take_ other people's lives – or to just use them, until they're so washed up and so compromised that they might as well be dead!"

Then there's just the harsh sound of her breathing in the empty space between them as she comes to a furious halt and fights to hold the intensity of his gaze.

He continues to regard her with an icy composure, the slightest twitch in his jaw and those furious eyes the only indication that he's even listening, as he asks quietly, menacingly, "You done?"

A pause.

"You think you've got the higher moral ground? I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that world you're describin'? You walked right in the front door with those big blue eyes wide open and you asked for a piece of this. And, in case you're forgettin' – when it was your back against the wall? The first thing you did was sell me out."

He pauses to let that truth of that sink in before continuing.

"And if I go down, you think I'm the only one affected? That my boys aren't gonna be out of a job or that my associates aren't gonna take a hit? You think that you're the only one with a family?"

He fixes her with a keen, knowing look as he answers his own question and delivers the final, brutal blow.

"Of course not. And you knew that."

His words sink like lead in the silence between them, crashing heavily against Beth's chest and crushing her airway until she can't breathe beneath the weight it.

"So don't think that you get to sit there and talk shit to me about makin' the tough decisions that keep me and my people on top. We ain't so different, you and I."

Upright despite the maelstrom of emotion that's threatening to pull her under, she blinks impotently as something deep inside her – something carefully-constructed, well-practised and protected – fractures; shedding the superficial, protective outer layer and leaving the inner beating heart exposed and vulnerable.

Starting up from the sofa, she grabs her glass of wine and takes it through to the darkened kitchen to dump the contents in the sink. Rinsing the glass on autopilot she places it carefully in the dishwasher before heading back to the family room, towards the spirit cabinet and the stronger stuff.

Rio's still sitting where she left him and she doesn't know if she's relieved or disappointed that he didn't take the opportunity to let himself out as silently as he had let himself in.

Her hand tremors as she lines the whiskey bottle up with the heavy-bottomed glass and she pours it quickly and sloppily before knocking back a scalding gulp. Lowering the glass back down to the shiny surface of the cabinet in front of her, she wills herself to turn around and walk calmly back to the sofa and finds that she cannot.

There's a blur of movement in her periphery as Rio walks over and comes to a quiet stop behind her.

"Elizabeth."

The fire and the ice is gone from his voice as he speaks her name gently, almost softly.

Feeling the tale-tale prickle of tears behind her eyelids Beth continues to stands frozen, with the whiskey before her and Rio at her back, until she has regained enough of that protective layer to pick up her glass, clear her throat thickly and murmur, "Help yourself."

She moves to the side, stands up against the wall and watches as he pours a short one, warming her own glass of amber liquid against her chest.

Glancing at her, his gaze sweeping over the whiskey glass cradled against the exposed skin at her cleavage, he tosses his drink back in one and then pours himself another.

Moving towards the dining table, he takes a seat at the end and inclines her head for her to join him. Suppressing the flash of memory of this man sitting at this very table with her husband's bruised and bloodied face in a headlock, Beth pulls out a chair to his left and sits down, taking another slow sip of her drink as she waits for him to speak.

"You need to get a better security system for the house."

"Okay, what exactly do I need?"

"Are your kids away for the weekend?" At her nod he continues, "I'll send one of my boys over tomorrow to have a look and get everythin' set up."

Conscious that she's been burning through her savings at a much faster rate than anticipated she asks carefully, "How much is that going to set me back?"

There's a beat or two of silence and then, "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not a charity case, Rio," she tells him evenly, her voice regaining some of the strength that had been crushed out of her in the painful moments preceding this one.

The sharp words that he had tossed at her that first night at the warehouse hang in the air between them now and there's the barest twitch at the corners of those beautiful lips as he tells her, "This ain't charity. Think of it as… compensation."

For what, she doesn't ask. If she or her family is in danger as a result of the lies that she had told Agent Turner, she will take all the protection that she can get.

"So, what do I need to know about this? About what this means for my family?"

There's a heavy silence and then he answers slowly, "Once the house is secure, just take extra care when you're goin' about your business. No parking in secluded areas, no walking down dark alleys – that sort of thing."

A pause and he's watching her closely now as he takes another mouthful of his drink and continues casually, "And no strangers in the house, yeah?"

There's a slight undercurrent in his voice, something that belies the sensibility of the directive, and Beth holds his eye steadily, letting the silence stretch just a little, before agreeing, "Fine."

He raises the glass to his lips one final time, knocks back the rest of the contents, and she almost misses the small smile that disappears into it.

"Okay, darlin', anythin' else I need to know about your conversation with Turner?"

The sudden change of track catches her off guard and she can feel her pulse picking up speed and her cheeks flushing gently beneath his quietly amused stare. Taking another sip of whiskey she shakes her head, auburn curls dancing softly about her face as she replies, "No, we've already covered all of the important points."

He raises an eyebrow sceptically, "You sure about that?"

This time her heart almost stops as she considers that maybe he already knows the extent of her conversation with Agent Turner. But how could he?

Her heart kicks back into action now with a vengeance, thundering inside her chest, and the breath catches in her throat as she sees before her again that scene in the kitchen; Rio leaning back against the counter, face flushed with pleasure, and her kneeling before him, taking the generous length of him into her mouth.

Unable to hold his gaze for a second longer, she glances down at her drink, feeling her cheeks flaming in response and fighting to even her voice as she lies thickly, "Um, yes; that was everything that you need to know."

Her voice sounds strained even to her own ears.

There's a beautiful, disbelieving smile softening the harsh lines of his face as he drawls quietly, "Right, right."

Glancing at the time on the screen of his phone, he gets up from the table and comments, "Forty minutes. Huh. Not a personal best but respectable enough by anyone's standards."

Her eyes flare in shocked response and he just laughs softly, "Wanna walk me out?"

Beth grabs her glass of whiskey nervously and leads the way to the front door, pulse pounding heavily all the way. Just as she's reaching to open it she hears, "Wait," and turns to find Rio standing close behind her.

One hand on the door and the other still clutching her drink, she watches as he steps in front of her and reaches a hand out towards her head.

"May I?"

Having no idea what she's agreeing to, she nods, breathless, and then he's reaching up with both hands to run his strong fingers along the contours of her scalp and through the short length of her curls until they're well and truly dishevelled.

He's so close that she can clearly see the intensity of colour in those beautiful dark brown eyes and can smell the delicious, warm scent of him.

"Much better," he laughs softly, and it's all she can do not to sway towards him as she opens the door blindly and he leans in one more time to whisper, "Good night, Elizabeth."

Then he's through the door and down the steps and she finds herself still rooted to the spot, absent-mindedly scanning the comfortable familiarity of the street outside, in search of their elusive audience.

\/\/\/\/\/

"So he gave you a head massage?" asks Annie "Interesting technique. I've never found them to be particularly erotic but if anyone could make a believer out of me, Gang Friend could."

"It wasn't a head massage," laughs Beth self-consciously, "He was trying to make it look more like…"

"He's screwed your brains out? Yeah, not a bad move."

They are sitting at the counter in the kitchen, finishing their coffees after a breakfast of blueberry pancakes.

"So," drawls Annie, "When are you going to ask him about letting us back in? I'm surviving on literal peanuts."

Sighing Beth takes a sip of her coffee and says slowly, "I don't know. I don't know if there is any "back in" for us. Why would he even consider it after what we did?"

"Um, because we are kick-ass criminal masterminds and he had better work with us if he doesn't want us going to the competition. Or better yet; becoming the competition."

A loud male laugh sounds on the stairs and both Beth and Annie start in fright as one of Rio's guys comes down the stairs to join them in the kitchen.

"What–" Beth starts, before remembering what Rio had said about securing the house, and then changes track, "How did you get in?"

The guy, _Paddy_ she thinks his name is, just shrugs his wide shoulders coldly and tells her "I'm gonna take a look around."

Taken slightly aback at his attitude, one that she hadn't been encountering in recent times from Rio's higher ranking crew, Beth thinks back on her conversation with Rio the night before and simply nods with resignation as she says, "Go ahead."

"What's his problem?" mouths Annie at her as Paddy disappears down the hall towards Beth's bedroom.

"I guess it's not just Rio that we have to make amends with," says Beth, finishing her coffee and setting the mug aside on the counter. "But whether or not Rio does eventually let us back in, I do need to find a job if I want to stay in this house."

Annie nods, "Fine and Frugal will keep me going for a while but I'm going to need a more sizeable income sooner rather than later. You think we could start another side-hustle?"

Conscious that she hasn't been completely honest with Annie about exactly why her house needs a seriously upgraded security system, Beth has to choose her words carefully as she nips the idea in the bud.

"No, with the FBI watching this house as we speak, we can't afford to do something that could raise a flag. We have to concentrate on going legitimate – at least for the time being."

Expressing her clear distaste for that idea Annie eventually simmers down and asks, "So, what were you thinking? It's been what, ten years since you had a job?"

"Yeah, just before I went on maternity leave to have Jane." She pauses, "I always thought I'd go back, you know? But it just didn't make sense when Jane was born and Kenny was still so young and then there was Danny and Emma…" Trailing off wistfully she thinks back to her job as a junior business analyst with an up and coming consultancy firm. A firm that had since become one of the most successful in the country.

"But I've been out of the game for so long that I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"I'm sure it wouldn't take you long to get back in to it but I don't think the hours would be too child-friendly," says Annie regretfully, "Hate to say it but maybe you need to set your sights a bit lower."

Murmuring her agreement, Beth is vaguely aware of Paddy making his way through each room in her house and she and Annie brainstorm further what kind of a job that she could apply for, that would allow her the flexibility to be at home when she needed to be for her kids.

It wasn't a long list.

Half an hour later, Paddy is done with his sweep of the house and he leaves to get some supplies. As with his entrance, he doesn't use the front door and instead slips quietly out the back.

Letting Buddy in as Paddy leaves through the kitchen, Beth decides that it's high time for a walk and Annie takes the opportunity to catch up on her favourite show on the couch in the snug – her cable had been disconnected last week.

Throwing on a warm jacket and hat against the cold outside, Beth sets off down the street with Buddy. As she walks briskly along, she tries to surreptitiously keep an eye out for anything usual that might indicate the presence of a Special Agent, or worse.

It appears to be business as usual in suburbia; neighbours out clearing the leaves from their driveways or piling into cars for a family day out, and Beth feels a swift stab of pain at the thought that that will never again be herself and Dean, climbing in to her MPV with the kids for a trip to the movies on a grey Saturday afternoon.

Steeling herself against the ache in her chest, she wipes her teary eyes hastily and carries on her way, back towards the house. Nearing it she's surprised to see the black Cadillac parked in her driveway and she picks up her pace.

Letting herself in the back door and making sure Buddy has enough water in his bowl she quickly pulls that hat from her head and runs her hand lightly through her hair.

"Annie?"

"Over here, sweetheart," calls that deliciously deep voice that never fails to send a confusing combination of anxiety and anticipation coursing through her.

Stepping out from behind the counter she can see them now, sitting in the snug just off the kitchen, watching Orange is the New Black. She's relieved to see that Annie is clearly relaxed, potentially even enjoying the company, and the whole scene strikes her as at once completely normal and totally bizarre.

Rio gets up and strolls comfortably into the kitchen, coming right over to Beth and stopping a mere foot from her.

He reaches out and she almost ducks her head as the rough pad of his thumb wipes away a tear from her cheek that she hadn't realised was still there. He regards her quietly for a moment and then he's all business as he turns away to pull a stool out at the counter and lean back casually against it.

She swallows thickly and could almost swear that she sees a flicker of a smile playing across his lips.

"The Paddy reckons he can get you all set up with a new alarm system today."

"'The' Paddy?" she asks quizzically as she busies herself hanging up her coat and pouring a couple of cups of coffee as she tries to figure out what he's doing here. "As in, the Irishman? I thought his actual name was Paddy."

Smiling but saying nothing he just observes her across the counter.

"What are you doing here Rio?" she asks bluntly, "Two visits in just 12 hours? Surely that would be a little hard to believe?"

There's that wicked twist of a smile as he murmurs, "Maybe it's just that good between us."

Beth chokes on her breath and is suddenly distracted as she becomes conscious of the TV volume being lowered considerably on the other side of the bookshelf and can't help but laugh softly at Annie's blatant eavesdropping.

"So, why are you really here?" she asks.

He just watches her with a quiet amusement for the longest time and then he's stating, "You need a job."

She blinks in momentary confusion before she realises that Annie mustn't have been the only eavesdropper in her house this morning.

"Paddy? Uh, 'The' Paddy?" she asks and is unsurprised when no answer is forthcoming.

When it's clear that he's waiting for her to agree she says reluctantly, "Yes, I need a job."

He nods and continues, "I'm feelin' a lot of heat right now and it's been difficult to conduct business as usual."

Clamping down on the guilt that starts to rise in her, Beth asks, "Another shut-down?"

Nodding as he rasps a hand across his jaw he says, "Worse. See, once the money's been washed, it's gotta be moved and, after those money launderin' charges, my usual channels aren't an option right now. So, if those Feds dig too deeply, they could find all the evidence they need to put my ass in jail for a real long time."

Taking this in, she realises that she's never considered what happens to all of the cash that they clean after it's handed back to Rio. And she's intrigued.

"So," she asks hesitantly, "You need someone to move it, like, geographically?"

He smiles, "In a manner of speakin'. And yeah; some of it literally needs to be moved from A to B."

"And if, hypothetically, you were to offer me – us – that job, wouldn't the FBI be watching my every move?"

"Nah, they ain't got the resources for that and they won't be interested in watchin' you while you're at work for a legitimate business."

Mulling this over she points out the first obvious flaw in this plan. "I don't have a legitimate job."

"Not yet. But I know someone that can get you one – owes me a favour."

Annie, who has stayed silent on the sofa behind the bookshelf until this moment, asks suspiciously, "What kind of job?"

Laughing he answers, "Office work – typin' or some shit."

Looking back at Beth now he asks, "What do you think, you in?"

"Both of these jobs would be paid, right?" she asks.

He's smiling as he agrees, "Right."

"How much?"

"Same terms as before."

She's tempted to agree on the spot before he changes his mind but she really needs the cash, "Twenty," she demands boldly.

He's fixing her with that penetrating stare that goes right down to her soul and pursing his lips before countering with, "Seventeen and a half."

"Fifteen."

"Done."

He's getting up now and heading for the front door and Beth starts after him asking, "So, what happens now?"

"Now I call my contact and get the job set up. We'll talk after that."

He's through the front door and down the steps before she realises that she still doesn't have any way of getting in contact with him; he'd changed his number since she'd become persona non grata with the gang.

Following him outside into the cold air she calls his name and catches him just as he's about to get into the car.

Turning slowly, he waits for her to reach him, eyebrow raised in question.

"How can I contact you?" she asks, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, "The number I have doesn't work anymore."

"I'll contact you."

On the verge of backing down she tries again. "Look, the last time I needed to get in touch with you I couldn't. And that's not ideal, particularly given recent… developments."

He eyes her for a beat or two before saying, "I'll text you."

About to protest again he interrupts her, "They're probably watchin' us right now, darlin', and you think this looks like the kind of conversation they'd expect us to have?"

Cursing herself for forgetting so easily she nods and starts to turn away until the sound of her name on his lips stops her.

"What, no kiss goodbye?"

His voice tells her he's messing with her but the look in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Pulse thudding heavily at the base of her neck she's suddenly hyper aware of their close proximity; somehow she's ended up with her back against the car door and Rio standing in front of her, shielding her body with his own.

In the next instant he's bending towards her, his hand clasping her throat in an intimate show of dominance, his thumb tilting her chin upwards, and then he's kissing her. And this is no chaste goodbye kiss, this a claiming; a possession that she feels down to her very toes.

His lips are firm as they move over hers with an expertise that has her whole body drowning in sensation even before his tongue sweeps into her mouth and then it's all she can do to bite back a moan. Clutching at the sides of his jacket she feels him step impossibly closer, pressing his hard body against every yielding inch of her own, and there is no question in her mind that the fierce, aching need inside her will only be satisfied by one thing.

And then, just as suddenly, he's stepping back – breaking the contact – his voice husky and his breathing harsh as he drawls, "See you real soon, yeah?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Walking dazedly back up the steps to the house, Beth barely registers the sound of Rio's car pulling out her of driveway and taking off down the quiet suburban street. Annie is standing just inside the open door and, as soon as it's closed behind Beth, she lets out a piercing squeal of excitement.

"O.M.F.G! Did that just happen? Did Rio just kiss you? Was it as awesomely orgasmic as it looked?"

In need of a cold shower but settling for a cold glass of water, Beth tries her best to laugh lightly and naturally as she walks past Annie into the kitchen. Pausing at the sink for a moment, she tries to gather her scattered thoughts before turning back to face the vibrant excitement of her sister.

"What the hell _was_ that?" asks Annie, delight evident in every syllable.

Trying desperately to appear unaffected, Beth shrugs and answers, "Just keeping up appearances, I guess."

"Appearances? That's what you're going with?" Annie asks with heavy sarcasm, "Hate to break it to you sister but what that _appeared_ to be was Gang Friend was his tongue down your throat and, last time I checked, that wasn't part of the deal." She pauses, "Not that I'm saying there isn't room for negotiation in _my_ contract – it was like watching _Sons of Anarchy_ meets _Desperate Housewives.._." She trails off dreamily before adding, "No offence."

Smiling, Beth finishes her water and tries once more to shut down the conversation. "Look, we don't need to do a post-mortem on this – it was nothing. We were just giving the FBI what they want."

Seeing that Annie clearly doesn't believe it any more than she does herself, and is about to tell her so, Beth hastily leaves the kitchen in search of laundry that needs doing, bedrooms that need tidying, and anything that will generally distract her from the confusing mixture of emotions running riot inside her.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

Sitting in the airy reception of a glass fronted, multi-story office building a few short days later, Beth adjusts the tight fit of her grey pencil skirt and makes sure her matching jacket is sitting neatly over her soft peach blouse. When she had received the text from Rio on late Sunday evening with a name, address and an interview time, she had been startled to see that the date for the interview was just two days away.

After completing the morning school run on Monday, she had gone shopping for a new outfit for the occasion and, now that she was sitting in the building waiting to be called for her interview, she was infinitely grateful that she had made the effort. Glancing through the woefully dated CV in front of her, Beth's stomach dips. Rio had given her the impression that the job would be a done deal but she hasn't interviewed for a position in over a decade and she's undeniably nervous.

Tring to calm herself, she rehearses the carefully prepared answers to the questions that she's expecting to be asked, and thinks back over her knowledge of the company. It is a relatively small recruitment company with just over 20 employees, specialising in the recruitment of healthcare professionals.

It's not an area that she has any experience of and she can't for the life of her figure out what Rio's connection to the place might be; it hardly seems like the cash-rich kind of business that would be involved in money laundering.

"Ms Boland? Mr Vásquez will see you now."

A young, well-dressed woman is standing before her, smiling expectantly, waiting to lead Beth down a short corridor and into a large office. Behind a desk, in front of the large expanse of a floor-to-ceiling window, sits an undeniably attractive man, who rises as Beth enters and holds out a hand for a firm handshake.

"Elizabeth Boland? I'm Gabriel Vásquez. Please, take a seat."

The secretary directs Beth towards one of the two chairs perched in front of the desk and then takes the other herself, pen poised above a blank page of her large notebook.

Sitting down, Beth tries again to calm the churn of nerves as she replies, "Call me Beth. Thank you for taking the time to see me today."

Gabriel just smiles and leans forward in his chair, the crisp white of his shirt a striking contrast against the olive tones of skin and the tailored black jacket sitting snugly across the wide expanse of his shoulders.

Watching him with an objective admiration, Beth tries to gauge his age and finds she cannot be more specific than placing him in his mid-thirties to late forties.

"So, Beth, I understand that you've already been through a first round interview for the new secretary position?"

There is no hint of innuendo in his smooth, accented voice and Beth blinks to hide her confusion before answering, "Yes, I greatly enjoyed the first interview and was so pleased to be invited back."

He's nodding as his eyes scan her CV on the desk in front of him and his gaze flicks back to her with open curiosity. "I understand that you've been out of the workforce for quite some time but, based on your background, you appear to be a little over qualified for this job."

"The reason that I haven't been working is because I have four children and it just wasn't possible to manage a career and a growing family. At this point, I am still not in a position to pursue a very demanding career but I am eager to take that first step to get back into the workforce. And I don't underestimate the challenge that taking on a job such as this one represents."

Sensing that he is satisfied, perhaps even pleased, with her answer Beth can feel herself starting to relax ever so slightly as the conversation moves on.

Following a brief review of her career to date and her interest in the role, Gabriel says, "I am sure that you would get to grips with the role quite quickly and that you would have no difficulties in that regard. No doubt my colleagues have filled you in on the flexible working arrangements on offer?"

The woman beside Beth, whom has been writing furiously to minute the conversation, pauses for her answer and Beth silently curses Rio and his total lack of briefing as she adlibs, "Oh yes, that was one of the things that really attracted me to this job, that I would be able to work while the kids are in school and still be back in time to pick them up."

She pauses before adding by way of explanation, "I'm a single mom."

Smiling through the stab of pain that this admission elicits within her, she notices that the polite, impersonal interest in Gabriel's eyes flickers into something just a fraction warmer.

"Well, Beth, this meeting today was more of a formality than anything else. I'm satisfied that you're a good candidate for the job and that you'll fit in well with the team. I'll have Rachel send over the paperwork but I can tell you now that you are officially being offered the position."

Releasing a relieved breath that she hadn't even been aware of holding, she stands to shake his hand again. "Thank you so much for the opportunity, Gabriel, I really appreciate it."

Smiling at her with a comfortable sincerity, he clasps her hand warmly in his own and tells her, "Please, call me Gabe."

\/\/\/\/\/\/

Burning through another small portion of her savings as she shops for a few more pencil skirt suits and soft, light-coloured blouses, Beth feels excited at the thought of starting her new job and guilty that, despite Gabriel's kind words, she didn't get the job on merit.

Pausing in the act of trying on a number of pairs of heels in black and grey and nude, she checks her email and sees that Rachel has already sent on her contract. Surprisingly, her start date is listed as the following day. Glad that she now has most of what she needs for her new work wardrobe, she decides to get a pair of the heels in each colour and to drop by Ruby's on the way home.

Opening the door a short while later, Ruby takes one look at her and grins, "Girl, you look smokin' in that outfit."

Smiling her thanks, Beth follows her through to the kitchen. "It sure feels good to be back in a suit. Uncomfortable but good," she laughs, "Even if it is just to file paperwork and take minutes. Come to think of it, they haven't actually told me what I'll be doing. All I know is that it's a secretary position."

"And that's just a cover, right?" asks Ruby, putting the kettle on for a pot of tea.

"Right; it's a front to keep the FBI off my back while I move money around for Rio. Although I don't actually know what I'll be doing there either."

"Speaking of Rio…" says Ruby suggestively and then sighs in frustration when Beth doesn't take the bait. But her deep flush doesn't go unnoticed.

"Come on! Annie already filled me in on all of the gory details and the fact that you're acting like it never happened! There is no way you're as calm and collected about this as you're making out."

Beth just laughs lightly. "The FBI think we're… involved. It was just an act, that's all."

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that!" Laughs Ruby. And then, "Oh my god, that's what this is, isn't it? It wasn't just an act for you."

"What?!" Exclaims Beth with forced amusement, "Of course it was. What else would it be? I just don't want to waste time talking about it when there are much more important things going on."

There's a pause and then she asks solemnly, "How are things with Stan?"

Shooting Beth a knowing look, Ruby shrugs her shoulders and answers, "Who knows. He still barely talks to me. And you know what the worst thing is? That's sort of become the new normal – as if we're both actually getting used to this distance between us."

"Ruby, I'm sorry, I hope it gets easier for you two very soon. I'm sure Stan just needs time."

Watching Ruby's sadness as she nods along to the line that has been repeated so many times already, Beth tries to take her mind off it by filling her in on her strange interview.

"So, the guy that interviewed me today, Gabriel? He pretended that I'd already been to a first round interview because his colleague was in the room and it actually seemed like he didn't know anything about the cover or the favour to Rio."

"What was he like? Did he seem like someone that the gang would know? Maybe he's not actually the one that got you the job."

"It's hard to tell," Beth answers, "He's the CEO of the company so you'd think if anyone was making a decision like that it would be him. And he looks like he has a South American heritage, like Rio, so maybe there's a family connection there."

Ruby's smiling now as she asks, "And this Gabriel, is he as devastatingly attractive as your new boy toy?"

Fighting the urge to correct Ruby's flippant use of the term _boy toy_ , which makes Beth feel distinctly uncomfortable, she bites her tongue on that and says thoughtfully, "He certainly is attractive. Different – but attractive."

"Mhmm?" murmurs Ruby with open speculation, "And you'll be working closely with this guy?"

\/\/\/\/\/

The following few days pass by in a blur of activity as Beth settles in to the new routine of her working life. Following the morning school run, she drives to the office and works from morning to early afternoon alongside her new colleagues at the recruitment firm. The work itself is pretty basic in terms of skill level but it's interesting and she's happy to be working on something a little more complex than yet another costume for the school play or a sweet treat for the bake sale.

It's not quite as exhilarating or as well paid as washing fake cash but then it's not half as terrifying either.

As it turns out, the position of secretary is a second secretary for the CEO's office and Beth _has_ found herself working quite closely alongside Gabe. Rachel, his other secretary, has been grudgingly showing Beth the ropes and trying not to grimace too obviously when she is passed over for a certain task that their boss requires to be done.

Beth, for her part, has been taking this animosity on the chin with a large amount of amusement and a small dose of pity for the girl, who is obviously besotted with their handsome boss.

Just as she's getting ready to finish up her third day and head home for the weekend, she sees an email coming through from Gabriel, _Gabe_ , she reminds herself, as he keeps doing, asking her to stop by his office on her way out.

Switching off her computer and gathering her things, she calls goodbye to Rachel and the dozen or so other colleagues that she sits with in the open-plan office and makes her way down the hall, towards his's office. Pausing, she knocks lightly on the door and then pushes it open.

Gabe looks up from the report that lies open on his desk and beckons her in. Recognising the report as one that she had worked on, albeit briefly and after Rachel had done much of the ground-work, she worries that perhaps he is unsatisfied with the quality of their work.

"I'm happy to continue working on that–"

"The report is fine," he replies warmly, "Thank you for all of your work on it."

Walking over to take a seat in front of his desk, Beth is quick to correct him, "It was mostly Rachel, I just tidied it up a bit at the end. It made for an interesting read though; it's really fantastic to see that your recruitment team have such a high success rate."

He's nodding as he watches her, almost quizzically, as if he can't quite figure her out, and then he asks, "How have you been finding your first couple of days here?"

Smiling brightly she replies honestly, "I've been really enjoying it – the team has been so friendly and helpful and the hours are fitting in well with the kids' schedule. And it feels quite personally satisfying to be back working again."

"I'm glad to hear it. The feedback that I've been getting from the floor has been really positive – everyone seems to be very supportive of your appointment."

He pauses then as he continues to observe her curiously before continuing, "I understand that you need to take a half-day next Wednesday, to attend a Parent-Teacher meeting?"

Blinking through a vaguely familiar confusion Beth nods and says, "Yes, I'm so sorry about the short notice."

Gabe is smiling and holding his hand up to halt any further explanation. "Don't worry about it. I understand that there must be quite a number of unavoidable family situations that crop up when you have four children – take all the time you need."

Returning his smile, despite her rising confusion and her anger with Rio for, once again, not keeping her informed, she thanks Gabe and wishes him a good weekend before leaving the office.

Driving towards the school a short time later, she is consumed with irritation at Rio. She hasn't seen him since last Saturday and that scene in front of her house. _The kiss_ , her mind taunts her now and she tries for the thousandth time not to dwell on the memory of his mouth on hers, his leanly muscular body pressed tightly against her own, and the heated response that had consumed her. Feeling the dull thud of her pulse kick up a notch at the reminder, she tries desperately to block it out; to convince herself that it had all been an act and that her body had reacted as one naturally would in a similar situation – particularly one as intimacy-starved as her own – and that she hadn't been reacting specifically to _him_.

And now he is keeping her in the dark about his arrangement with her boss, forcing her into uncomfortable situations at work just as she is finding her feet, when he could just as easily have come to her directly and asked her to arrange time off for herself.

Pausing at a stop-light, she pulls out her phone and angrily shoots him a text message, _'Your place or mine?'_ , before continuing on her way to the school.

Forcing herself to take a couple of deep breaths and _let it go,_ she concentrates more keenly on her driving and the road around her in an attempt to calm herself and exist purely in the present, at least until she sees the kids off to Dean's later on that evening.

Turning down a street a few blocks from the school, she becomes slowly aware of a dark car a number of places back, that appears to be making all of the same turns. Heart fluttering wildly in her chest, she takes a couple of unnecessary turns to be see if it continues on behind her. After the first turn it's still there and there are fewer cars between them now. She makes the second turn and watches apprehensively in her rear-view mirror as the back car takes the turn and appears to be gaining on her. Hitting the accelerator hard Beth jolts forward, taking two more turns and fully prepared to keep on driving, past the school and away from her children, when she notices that the car is no longer in sight. The relief that she feels is immense.

There haven't been any further incidents with the FBI or with any other of Rio's more unsavoury associates but, despite projecting an outward calm for the benefit of her children and friends, she has been going through the past week on an increased sense of alert, expecting to encounter the next threat at every turn; on her trip to the grocery store, when she's out walking Buddy or even inside her own home. The upgrade to the security system has helped her peace of mind in some small measure but she is frighteningly aware that should an intruder make it inside her house, there's very little that she can do to protect herself and her family.

Deciding to take that up with Rio when she sees him next, she pulls into the school and ushers the children quickly into the car.

As it turns out, she doesn't have long to wait. Shortly after dinner, and just after Dean has pulled out of her driveway with the kids, Beth is in the process of discarding the apron that she wears over her work blouse and skirt and running herself a hot bath when the doorbell rings. Leaving the water running and slipping downstairs on stockinged feet she opens the front door, half expecting to see Annie or Ruby standing there, and instead it's Rio; black hood raised against the soft drizzle, an enigmatic half-smile teasing the corners of his lips, and an Agent Provocateur bag in his hand.

"Hey baby."

Just those two murmured words and her insides are in free-fall, her mind immediately casting back to the last time that he had stood before her, his warm hand clasped loosely around her neck and his tongue brushing intimately against her own.

"Hi," she says thickly, stepping aside to let him in, nerves on hyper-alert as he moves closer. Then she's clamping down tightly on any rising emotion as he merely steps through the door and pushes it shut behind him.

"I brought you a gift," he says softly, mockingly, and she understands that he's playing the game; that dangerously delicious game in which they are lovers.

Glancing at the Agent Provocateur bag she asks, with as much amusement as she can muster, "The kind of gift that's really a gift for you?"

That beautiful twist of a smile flashes across his face as he drawls, "Oh I don't know about that, sweetheart, I reckon this is somethin' that we could both… appreciate."

Heart starting to hammer in her chest, she watches as Rio cocks his head to the side and asks distractedly, "Is there someone upstairs?"

Unable to stop the light flush that sweeps across her cheeks, she fights to keep her voice clear and unaffected as she answers, "I was just running a bath, give me a minute to turn it off and I'll be right back."

He blinks once, the familiar unreadable expression on his face becoming even more closed as he nods and turns abruptly away, "Be quick, yeah? There's somewhere I gotta be."

Clenching her jaw in an attempt to keep her own expression free of the temper flaring within, Beth watches as he disappears down the hall towards her bedroom, before walking slowly up to the steamy bathroom and shutting off the water.

Pausing for a moment, she gathers every shred of composure that she can around herself before heading back downstairs, towards her bedroom. Inside, Rio has pulled the curtains, laid the contents of the bag out on the comforter and is standing on the far side of the bed, with his hands deep in the pockets of his sweater.

Unsurprised to see a stack of cash on the bed Beth unconsciously raises her hands to her hips and asks tarty, "Does this have anything to do with the Parent-Teacher meeting next Wednesday?"

"I need you to lodge this into a bank account. The details are on that sheet of paper."

Pulse jumping in apprehension, and, if she's honest with herself, a tiny spark of excitement, Beth nods and continues, "I'd prefer if you contacted me directly next time, to arrange time off."

He doesn't respond right away, allows the silence to stretch between them before asking quietly, "Is that right?"

Refusing to be intimidated she continues, "Yes, it would be much easier to pull off the 'innocent office-worker routine' if I'm not being surprised with news of my own child's Parent-Teacher meeting by my new boss."

She's unsurprised but irritated when he doesn't speak and just continues to observe her with those intense, dark eyes.

Not interested in a battle of wills tonight she asks curiously, "How do you know Gabe anyway?"

A crooked smile. "'Gabe', huh?"

The question and his tone catch her off guard and suddenly, involuntarily, her eyes are dipping away from his.

And then he's moving around the bed, heading towards the door, where he stops briefly to look back at her and drawl darkly, "Don't forget who your real boss is, sweetheart."

The anger that she has been trying to keep buried is rising to the surface now and then she's following him out of the room, noting distractedly that he's headed for the backdoor, not the front, evidently intent on slipping out of the house unobserved.

"Rio, wait."

He's almost at the door now and for a moment she thinks he'll just ignore her and keep going. But then he's turning slowly to face her; silent and questioning.

"Look, I appreciate that this kind of set-up might work well with your other… business associates – the kind where you keep them in the dark on all but the barest details – but that doesn't work for me."

There's a look of dark amusement stealing across his face as Rio takes his hand off the door handle and settles back against the kitchen counter to hear her out.

"And what makes you think that conductin' my business in a way that works for you is high up on my list of priorities?"

"Because, quite frankly, the current set-up is more likely to make me a liability than an asset."

A shadow of a smile plays around the corners of his mouth and the beautiful baritone of his voice drops a fraction deeper he murmurs, "So what do you want, Elizabeth?"

The dark intensity of his gaze burns into her own and then it's all she can do to keep her composure as her breath catches and the angry tirade dries up in her throat as she truly considers it; _"What do you want, Elizabeth?"_

Pulse hammering in her ears, she tries to shake of the barrage of images cascading through her mind, each one of them more X-rated than the next, and she swallows delicately before answering – conscious of his eyes tracing the movement closely before flicking heatedly back to her own.

"I want…" her voice is husky and she has to clear her throat before continuing more firmly, "I need more information. I need to know what Gabriel does or doesn't know about my involvement with you and the gang, I need to know more about this job that I'm doing on Wednesday, I need to know more about what jobs are coming up down the line," she pauses for a moment and then finishes, "And I need to learn how to shoot."

There's barely a shift in the dark amusement that has been evident on Rio's face since she started talking but she gets the sense that she has surprised him.

"I ain't got the time to get into this tonight but I'll be in touch before Wednesday, yeah?"

And then he's leaving through the backdoor before she's even had a chance to respond and she's left to return to the cooling waters of her bath – trying not to wonder where, or who, he's off to in such a hurry on a Friday night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The weekend passes by in a slow procession of household chores, interspersed with the occasional coffee date at Annie's and Ruby's, both of whom have family obligations of their own and no time for a full-on girlie get-together with too much wine and too little sleep.

Which is also too bad because that's just what Beth needs.

The kids have spent enough weekends over at Dean's for her to have become familiar with the routine of spending the majority of this time alone but some weekends are better than others and this one has been on the worse side.

Stirring a large pot of bolognaise at the stove on Sunday evening, she's reminded of that first time that she came home to find Rio and his boys in her kitchen and he'd flippantly asked her about the marble back-splash, as if he had been merely making a social call. Stirring the sauce with a little more aggression than needed, she tries to ignore her irritation at the fact that she hasn't seen or heard from him since Friday evening.

When he said he'd be in touch she had assumed that he'd drop by at some stage over the weekend – certainly before the kids arrived back – and yet so far there'd been nothing. And now she's facing into another busy week of the school routine and her new job, in addition to the bank job that she has to pull off on Wednesday and is still waiting for a proper briefing on.

And yes, she had asked for it, all of it, and to one degree or another it's exactly what she wants to be doing, but she hates not feeling like she's in control. And there'd been nothing quite like spending the whole weekend, subconsciously or not, waiting for the text or the phone call or the appearance that never came, to highlight just how outside of her control this business relationship with Rio is.

/\/\/\/\

When she hasn't heard from him by late on Tuesday evening, Beth decides that enough is enough and calls his burner phone. No answer.

She sends a number of generic 'I need to see you' text messages and each of these goes unanswered as well.

Knowing that she won't be able to count on Rio for any further information about the job the following day, she completes her night-time routine and slips into bed with the laptop; anger a burning coil in her stomach.

Having thoroughly reviewed the very limited information on the A4 sheet of paper that accompanied the $90k in cash that had tumbled out of the Agent Provocateur bag, she knows that the bank account details are for a company called Peyton Holdings, which, after a little research, she can only assume is a shell company.

Also listed on the page is the address of a bank, the name of a bank manager and an indicative time for the meeting.

Having looked into the IRS policy on cash deposits, she is aware that the cap for direct reporting by the bank to the IRS is set at just $10k. Which, she presumes, means either that her personal tax details will have go on the relevant lodgement form tomorrow, for submission to the IRS, or that Rio has the bank manager on the hook.

Feeling her anger climb to new levels at having to guess at all of this, she tries to reassure herself that if she knows one thing about Rio, it's that he's very good at getting people on the hook. So it's more than likely that there'll be no form submitted to the IRS and that the personal risk that she's taking is less then it could be.

Trying her best to calm the nerves fluttering in her stomach with this reasoning, she punches her pillow into shape and switches off the bedside lamp.

/\/\/\/\

In the morning, she dresses and completes her make-up with extra care to ensure that she looks as passably 'corporate' as possible. Adding crystal studs to her ears and fastening her favourite gold pendant around her throat, she stands back to survey her reflection in the mirror and is quite pleased with the result. The light grey skirt-suit and soft white blouse, paired with sheer nude stockings and high grey heels, make her look every inch the well-paid business executive that she'll be playing.

Grabbing the heavy cream business case off the bed she heads into the kitchen calling, "Come on guys, time to go! Kenny, can you help Emma with her Jacket? And Jane, whose lunch is that on the counter? Come on Danny, let's go, go, go!"

The school run passes without incident and before she knows it, she's parked outside the office building with a business case full of cash and not one single message on her phone from Rio. Knowing she can't risk leaving the cash in her car for the whole morning, she takes the bag with her to her desk as she turns on her computer. Aware that she will be called away from her desk to Gabe's office at least two or three times over the course of the morning, she pauses in the act of logging in to her email as a thought occurs to her. It had been clear from Rio's reaction last week that he knows Gabe, which pretty much confirms that Gabe was the reason that she got the job and that he must be, in one way or another, indebted to Rio.

Picking up the case and heading towards his office before she can talk herself out of it, she finds herself outside the heavy oak door, knocking gently before pushing it open.

Gabe looks up from his computer screen and she can sense the question in his gaze, as it flicks over her appearance, and in his words, as he says warmly, "Good morning Beth, do we have a meeting scheduled?"

"Um, no, this'll just take a minute," she pauses for a moment and then pushes on, "You know that Parent-Teacher meeting that I have to go to later?"

His eyes narrow slightly and he nods for her to continue.

"There are these documents – important documents – that I have to bring with me and I don't really want to leave them outside in the office. I wonder if you might have a safe place that I can store them for a few hours?"

Glancing at the briefcase in her hand, he's silent for a few moments, his face impassive, and Beth wonders frantically if she's made a terrible mistake.

But then he's rising and moving around the desk to take the heavy case from her, saying, "Of course. I'll lock it in this cabinet over here. If I'm not here when you're leaving you'll find the key in the business card box on my desk."

Smiling in relief, she thanks him and makes to leave the office when his questions calls her back.

"This whole Parent-Teacher business, how did you get mixed up in it?"

Her heart beats a little faster as she casts about for an appropriate answer.

"Oh, you know," she laughs, "The usual way."

"Somehow I doubt that," he replies but he's smiling his acceptance and she knows that he's not going to push it any further.

At least not today.

/\/\/\/\

Three hours later when she's retrieving the case from his office, Gabe is there, watching her with that newly familiar curiosity as she removes the heavy case from the cabinet and moves back towards the door.

"Good luck," he calls softly and she has force herself to smile politely and not to ask his opinion on what she's about to walk herself into – to continue putting one foot in front of the other until she's out of the office and back in her car, starting the engine with a shaky hand.

After taking a number of quick detours to make sure that she's not being followed, she heads for the address that Rio left for her and can't help but glance distractedly at the blank home-screen of her phone one last time. Fighting against the anger that is quickly descending into resentment, she flicks the radio on and sings along loudly to every song that she can until she finds herself in the parking lot of the bank, applying one last coat of powder to her cheeks and one last dab of colour to her lips and hoping that she isn't about to walk herself right into an arrest.

Not allowing herself to hesitate a moment longer, she leaves the car and walks in to the airy foyer of the bank, heavy business case in hand. Approaching the nearest member of staff she tells the young clerk that Mrs June Cleaver is here to see Mr Harvey Wilson and calmly takes a seat to wait.

As the minutes tick by she can feel herself getting increasingly tense and fights to keep her mind calm and her face perfectly blank. And then in the next moment Mr Wilson appears to usher her upstairs to his office and then there's no more time for second-guessing.

Mr Wilson turns out to be a well-dressed middle aged man that, once again, Beth is having difficulty connecting to a street gang. But then again, she thinks, with a nervous amusement, she doesn't really fit the profile herself.

"Mrs Cleaver? You're coming from Peyton Holdings I presume? Here to make a lodgement?"

His voice is smooth, betraying nothing, but the mere fact that he has mentioned Peyton Holdings without prompt tells Beth all that she needs to know; there will be no IRS form for completion today.

"Oh, yes," she says brightly, lifting the business case onto the desk between them, "$90,000 in cash."

"Good, good," he replies easily as he takes out a bill verifier and begins to run the stacks through it, one by one.

Knowing that all of the cash will have been washed already, she can't help but hold her breath as the final few notes are scanned, counted and verified by the machine.

"$90,000, as you said, Mrs Cleaver. Please allow me to make out the lodgement receipt and then you can be on your way."

Walking back out of the bank a short time later, Beth cannot believe how simple it's been. She's conscious that she'll have been recorded on CCTV in all areas of the bank, except for Mr Wilson's office, but she knows too that there's no reason for her to have raised any suspicion.

Back in the car she can feel the exhilarating buzz of a risky job well done and wants nothing more than to call the girls up and head out for celebratory cocktails.

Sighing, she turns the car in the direction of her local grocery store so that she can fit in a quick shop before collecting the kids from school.

/\/\/\/\

"Wait, wait, so now you've got not one but two hot-as-fuck bosses? And I'm still stuck with Boomer the Rapist?" Annie asks with a pout, "Man, I must have done some bad shit in a past life."

Laughing into her Manhattan, Ruby mutters, "I mean, you've done plenty of bad shit in _this_ life but who's counting."

Taking a sip of her Vodka Martini and enjoying the light buzz of alcohol in her system, Beth laughs at Annie's expression of mock hurt and says, "The fact that they are both… attractive doesn't really change anything for the better. In fact, I think both of my jobs would be a lot less complicated if they were presided over by middle-aged men with expanding waistlines."

"Perish the thought!" shudders Annie.

"Did I tell you that my new co-worker hates my guts because she doesn't like sharing Gabe with another woman?"

"Honey, you just ignore that child and take it as a compliment," says Ruby, "She wouldn't have an issue if she didn't see you as a threat."

The conversation moves on and Beth breathes an internal sigh of relief. As much fun as it can be to laugh and joke about her business relationship with Rio and now Gabe, she isn't in the mood tonight and she certainly doesn't need to be reminded of the deafening silence from Rio that has continued, unbroken, over the last number of days.

Feeling like she needed a break from it all after the bank job on Wednesday, and knowing that Annie and Ruby probably needed it more than she did herself, she had arranged a table at their favourite cocktail bar for that Friday night and they had all dressed for the occasion.

Wearing a soft, black sheath of a dress that clings in all the right places and falls to just above the knee, Beth knows she looks good. Even without the undeniable attention that she can feel from a number of the other customers in the bar.

Reaching the end of her third drink, Ruby is deliberating over ordering a fourth when three cocktails are delivered to their table and the well-dressed waiter points out a number of business men over at the bar that are nodding and waving in their direction.

Ruby is beginning to say that the drinks should be sent back when Annie stops her with a hand on her arm, saying dramatically, "Don't deny me this, Ruby, it's been a rough week!"

Laughing, Ruby holds up her hands in surrender, "Fine, but I can't stick around for this. I'll catch up with you ladies over the weekend. And I'll want details!"

Before Beth can really register what is happening, Annie has beckoned the guys over and two of them have come to join their table – one making a beeline for Annie and the other for Beth. The conversation is a little stilted to begin with but before long, and with the help of her fourth cocktail, Beth is beginning to enjoy the attention and the company of Brad, the marketing executive that works in a nearby office building.

Even if that's as far as her enjoyment of the whole situation goes.

Before long, Annie is slipping out on to the terrace to indulge in a guilty social cigarette with Steve – Brad's younger colleague – and Beth finds herself alone at the table with her new companion, who is suddenly stepping up his game. Feeling uncomfortable with the expectation that she can see starting to build in the man beside her, Beth consciously sets her half-finished drink aside and decides to beat a hasty exit as soon as Annie comes back.

In the next moment, a surprised flash of recognition registers on the periphery of her mind as a dark figure approaches her table and slides easily along the leather bench to her left, not stopping until his body is pressed warmly against her own and then there's a loose, proprietary hand snaking around the back of her neck.

"You'll have to forgive my tardiness, darlin'," Rio drawls softly, "I must've missed the invite."

Beth's pulse thumps painfully and the soft brush of fingers along the sensitive line of her jugular tells her that this hasn't gone unnoticed.

Turning towards him, and, as a result, further into his embrace, Beth replies snidely, "I didn't send one."

This close to him, she can see the angry flare of his beautiful dark brown eyes even as the rest of his expression remains relaxed – amused even – and he holds her wide gaze for a moment more before he turns to her companion saying, "Would you mind excusin' us for a moment?"

Watching the increasing tension spreading across poor Brad's face, Beth knows that he understands that the polite request is anything but and that the threat of bodily harm he is sensing is very real.

Without further comment he picks up his drink and walks swiftly back to his gang of bug-eyed colleagues.

Turning angrily towards Rio, who has maintained his lose hold on the back of her neck and the close position beside her, Beth is ready to tear into him when the look in his eyes causes the words to stick in her throat and her heart to stutter erratically in her chest.

The anger is still there, yes, along with a challenge that says he's waiting to take her sharp words and to deliver some of his own, but beneath that, in the shifting darkness of his gaze, is a searing flash of heat that has the breath freezing in her lungs and an answering throb of need beating to life inside her.

His eyes dip slowly to the swell of her lips and she can feel them parting in involuntarily anticipation, her every nerve attuned to him, screaming for him dip his head just slightly–

"What'd I miss?"

Annie's amused voice cuts through the tension like a knife and all at once the spell is broken.

Rio shifts away from Beth until the only place that their bodies connect is through the warm clasp of his hand on the base of her neck and she resists the urge to push his arm off only because she knows it won't do any good.

And, on a deeper level, because she knows that he must be here for a reason. But that doesn't make her any less pissed off with his behaviour.

"Oh nothing," she says, forcing a laugh, "Just Rio demonstrating his impeccable timing."

Beside her, Rio's lips are stretching into that shark of a smile as he signals for the waiter to bring the bill and says to Annie, "I'm taking your sister home, you wanna ride?"

Instead of displaying her usual amusement at his antics, Annie looks to Beth for reassurance before replying.

"No, I'm okay thanks. And Beth? If you need anything, you just call me."

/\/\/\/\

Sat in the front seat of his Cadillac a short time later, Beth can feel the anger that has been simmering in her all week beginning to boil over. Her body is awash with adrenaline in a mixed response to the kiss that had almost happened and to the confrontation that is almost certainly coming – just as soon as they reach her house and she can have his undivided attention.

And then he's pulling into her driveway, switching off the ignition and rolling his head towards her; his expression one of perfect calm and expectation.

The tension that has been building inside her during the silent drive home has now reached fever pitch and Beth is so mad that she almost doesn't trust herself to speak.

"Look, I know that you're not running a conventional business here, and that the usual rules of engagement definitely do not apply, but when you agree to do something for me, then you follow through on that. No exceptions."

He doesn't say a word, just continues to watch her with that coolly enigmatic expression and her voice goes up a notch as she continues.

"And you're just waiting for me to get it all out, aren't you? So that you can tell me to stop with the bitch-ass drama, because you're the big boss and you call the shots, right? Well, let me tell you something; I may not call the shots but if you give me your word then I am absolutely going to hold you to it."

She pauses now to draw a breath and her voice is shaking as she continues, heavy with an emotion that is completely unrelated to this man but wholly related to her recently broken trust in the decency of people.

"Don't think for one second that you get to placate me by agreeing to something and then completely turning your back on it! If you don't want to do it then fine! Don't! But at least have the balls to tell it to me straight!"

"Elizabeth."

He says her name softly but she doesn't let him speak.

"And what – you're going to tell me that it was all a test? To prove that I don't need answers from you in order to do my job? That I should be pleased that I got through it by myself? Okay, so I didn't need those answers for the job on Wednesday. But I will need them for the next one and the one after that!"

"Elizabeth!"

His voice is firmer now, with an edge of warning, but she ignores him and continues on with her angry tirade.

"And all of that aside, if you think that our fake relationship gives you the right to ignore my calls for a week and then crash my Friday night out – to what? Scare off some poor guy that has the misfortune of being interested in the boss's fake mistress? – let me clarify right now that it does not."

The only sound in the enclosed space of the car is her heavy breathing as she finally comes to a stop and tries to catch her breath.

Rio, looking decidedly less calm, says nothing, as if waiting to see if there is more to follow.

"How did you even know where I was?" she asks finally.

"Doesn't matter," he answers slowly, deliberately, "What matters is that the Feds were there."

He lets that sit heavily in the silence between them before continuing.

"Hell, that punk-ass suit that you were talkin' to could have been a Fed. And yeah, darlin', that does give me the right me to crash your hot date and haul your ass out of there before you blow our cover sky high."

Guilt and anger war insider her as she tries to come to grips with this and with the broader implications of it.

"I know it ain't somethin' we talked about," he says, his voice taking on a curiously soft undertone as he continues, "But as long as we keep this up – you and me? You can't be seen talkin' to other men in bars. And you can't be bringin' 'em back here neither."

Choking on an indignant laugh, Beth responds cuttingly and without thinking, "And meanwhile, you can just carry on screwing whoever you like, right?"

The silence stretches between them and Beth can feel a blush sweeping across her cheeks under the close scrutiny of his increasingly watchful gaze.

He shrugs and she thinks he's not going to answer but then he says bluntly, "I've never really been big on fidelity."

And suddenly, surprisingly, there's a vivid hurt bleeding into her and it takes every ounce of strength that she has to keep her expression neutral as she nods her apparent acceptance of this.

"Look, Elizabeth, if you want to drop the act then we can maybe figure somethin' else out for the business side of things."

But, conscious or not, there's an underlying thread of doubt in his voice that suggests that that could prove difficult.

So, she thinks it over; should she keep up this charade to the detriment of any relationships that could develop with other men?

Or should she drop the charade to the detriment of… what?

And then, beyond her better judgement, she hears herself saying, "It's fine, Rio. It serves a purpose. For now at least."

Watching his face closely for any change in expression, Beth is disappointed when he looks quickly away, out the window, and when his eyes swing back to hers his expression is as impassive as ever.

"But I meant what I said; if you tell me you'll do something then I'm going to hold you to it."

He nods and is silent for so long that Beth thinks that the conversation is done and she makes a move to open the door of the car but then–

"I was… out of action for a few days."

And that's it.

Then he's opening his own door and getting out and she follows suit, in stunned silence, wanting to ask more but knowing that that's as close to an explanation, or to an apology, as she's likely to get.

He walks with her up the steps to the front door, watches as she fishes her key out of her purse, and she feels oddly deflated, doing her best to inject a false brightness into her voice as she calls, "Well, good night then," before moving to turn the key in the lock.

"Ain't you forgettin' somethin'?"

Heart in her throat, she turns slowly around and then he's right there; his broad shoulders blocking her view of the street, his right hand cupping the side of her face and his head dipping towards her as he captures her lips in a simple, single kiss.

Drawing back he drawls softly, "Good night, Elizabeth."

And then it's done; they've parted ways as any curious onlooker might expect them to.

But Rio isn't stepping away; he's still so close that his breath is warm on her face and his eyes are locked on hers in heated acknowledgement as his hand slips from her cheek to bury itself in the silky curls of her hair. And then one or both of them moves to close the distance between them and this kiss, when it happens, is heavy and hungry and unrestrained.

Rio twines his fingers in her hair and there's a deliciously painful tug on her scalp as he tilts her head back, grazing his teeth along the plump flesh of her lower lip until she opens her mouth for him. And then his tongue is brushing expertly against her own and she's luxuriating in the newly familiar taste of him as she slides a hand up his chest to cradle the strong line of his jaw, holding his mouth even more tightly against her own, and loving the feel of the coarse rasp of his stubble against her palm.

Drowning in sensation and the all-consuming need for _more_ she tries to pull his leanly muscular body even closer against her own and he gives her what she wants – thrusting his denim clad hips against her own – and she cries out softly as the hard jut of his erection presses intimately against the aching bundle of nerves between her thighs.

Nipping playfully at his lips as she rolls her hips impatiently against his, Beth delights in Rio's growl of approval as he thrusts against her again, eliciting another muffled moan, and then his mouth is leaving hers to trail down her neck, towards the heavy weight of her breasts.

Gasping for air, Beth clutches weakly at his shoulders and is instantly aware of the sudden stillness that settles over him as he freezes in place before her.

It takes a moment or two for the heavy, desire-fuelled fog to lift from her brain before it hits her – he's in pain.

And then he's slowly, carefully, stepping back, his left arm held closely, awkwardly against his side as his right hand reaches up to rasp ruefully, regretfully, across the stubble of his jaw.

"What happened to you?" she asks, breathless.

Clearing his throat he answers roughly, "Don't worry about it – it's just a scratch."

"Rio… It's not just a scratch. Let me look at it; I might be able help."

He's shaking his head, eyes resolute, as he reaches around her to open the front door.

"You'd better get inside."

And then, "Sweet dreams, Elizabeth."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Waking in a tangle of bedclothes from a surprisingly vivid dream, it takes Beth a moment to realise that she's alone and that the warm, male body close beside her own had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

In the next moment, her mind is flooded with a sensual deluge of images of the previous night and she can't help the small, secretive smile that plays across her lips as she remembers the very real hunger of Rio's kisses and the intoxicating thrust of his undeniable need.

Feeling the almost instantaneous tug of her body's heated response, she is filled with a nervous confusion of anticipation and apprehension as she finally comes to terms with the undeniable truth.

 _Fine_ , she thinks defiantly, knowing she has to address this attraction head-on or it will drive her to complete distraction; _I want him_.

There. She'd said it.

Relief tinged with a hint of embarrassment washes over her as she finally admits it; relief that she doesn't have to keep lying to herself and embarrassment that she has found herself so very attracted to a (potentially much) younger guy.

A guy who also happens to be her boss and the leader of violent criminal gang.

And then she remembers the reason that their frenzied passion had cooled so abruptly the previous evening – remembers with a painful jolt that Rio is injured – and then her insides are twisting with an uncomfortable feeling that she doesn't even try to analyse.

Wondering what had happened to him and worrying about the medical attention that he almost certainly needs, but may or may not be receiving, she rolls out of bed and pads into the kitchen to switch on the coffee machine.

Pausing for a moment at the counter, her hands planted palm-down on the cool marble, she tries in vain to mentally shake herself out of it – to cast aside whatever last night was – before giving up on a sigh and taking refuge in the comforting confines of the shower.

Standing beneath the hot jets of water, soaping her hair and trying determinedly to regain control over her wayward body, another recollection surfaces. Of Rio outlining to her that as long as they pretend to be engaging in a sexual relationship, she can't get involved with other men.

The thought itself, of getting back in the dating game – or whatever it is that people do these days – is laughable. In truth, she can't actually imagine being ready for that, period. Let alone a couple of weeks after finally separating from Dean.

There's a painful twist inside her in recognition of the fact that she still has no desire to try to make things work with Dean. There had been a tiny part of her that thought her feelings on the matter might change over time, with a little distance and perspective, but instead her resolve is growing with every week that passes. And the sharp pain of seeing him each weekend as he collects and drops off the kids – of the reminder of the loss of the life that they had been building together – is becoming muted.

So, it's not that she's upset because Rio's directive infringes on her life in practice. But even the theoretical implications are enough to raise her hackles; the thought that someone has that much control over her life.

And, worse still, that he'd offered her an out form their arrangement and she'd shied away from it, for reasons that she still couldn't fathom.

Feeling a steady build-up of tension in her chest and knowing that she needs to find an outlet, Beth decides on a whim that she'll go to the pool and try to exercise her way to a healthy headspace.

Twenty minutes later, she's making the short drive to her local gym, trying to remember the last time that she was at the pool by herself and finding that she cannot. She used to love swimming and had dropped it and circled back to it again and again over the years but it wasn't something that she had done consistently since before Kenny was born. And that was fine – her priorities had changed and there had always been something more important to do than spend an hour or two alone at the pool – but she had missed it.

Pulling into the almost empty parking lot with a feeling of comforting familiarity, a black car that had been on the road behind her catches her attention in the rear-view mirror. It slows down as it approaches the turn that she has just taken and then, in the next instant, it picks up speed and continues quickly on past.

Her breath catches in her throat. She tries to think back on whether the car bore any resemblance the one that had spooked her recently but it had passed too quickly for her to pick out any identifying features and she tells herself to just forget about it and get on with her morning.

But, as she grabs her gym bag from the back seat and steps out of the car, her senses are on high alert and her shoulder blades are tingling as she crosses the wide open space of the lot.

And she doesn't relax until she enters the welcoming warmth of the lobby and the wide glass doors have slid firmly closed behind her.

/\/\/\

Emerging from the building an hour later with rosy cheeks and hastily blow-dried hair, Beth feels decidedly less frustrated and is thinking a lot more clearly than she had been earlier that morning.

Yes, she is attracted to Rio, and there's no question that the feeling is mutual, but that doesn't mean that she has to follow that attraction through to what could be seen as it's inevitable conclusion. She works for him, _he is her boss_ , and it would undoubtedly be a bad idea to mix this particular business with pleasure.

So, she's not going to try to kid herself about wanting him but she is going to do her very best to bury that attraction beneath every ounce of self-restraint that she has and hope that, somewhere along the way, it just fizzles out.

People do it all the time, she tells herself; there's no reason that she can't be one of them.

Her phone pings and she digs it out of her bag to see a message from Rio flashing on the screen:

' _Lunch, 2pm, same place.'_

/\/\/\

Glancing nervously around the half-empty café, Beth checks her watch for the hundredth time and tries to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She's sitting at their usual table but this time she has taken Rio's seat so that she has a clear line of vision to the door.

The fact that he's now more than twenty minutes late is causing her nerves to run riot for all kinds of reasons.

Sipping her ginger tea slowly, she gazes blindly at the menu in front of her and rehearses what she wants to say to him. About the kiss. And the fact that it can't happen again.

She feels silly just picturing the conversation but there is no doubt in her mind that the next time that he touches her – grievous bodily harm allowing – there will be no stopping until the line between business and pleasure has been so completely erased that there will be no question of ever going back.

"Hey darlin', sorry I'm late."

For all her door-watching, he has still managed to slip in unnoticed and her heart thumps heavily in response.

"Uh, hey," she says brightly, trying to keep her tone even, "No problem, it's given me plenty of time to decide on my order and I'm notoriously indecisive when it comes to food."

He sits down opposite her with quiet ease and she finds herself babbling on nervously, "Fear of food-envy; it's a real problem."

He smiles slowly and her pulse picks up a notch.

She should know better than to expect him to explain why he's asked to meet but somehow she doesn't and when he remains silent and just continues watching her, she can feel herself becoming increasingly flustered.

Casting around for a little light conversation before she launches into her speech, which is all that she can really think about – that and the memories of the previous night – she asks, "How's your shoulder?"

He's got that expression of relaxed amusement on his face, the genuine one, that softens out the hard lines of his features to the point where she could almost forget that she's looking at a crime boss and could mistake him for just a normal guy with an unusually handsome face and a cool, edgy vibe.

"Fine," he says easily, dismissively, and nothing about his posture or expression suggests otherwise.

But she can't help searching his face for tell-tale signs of pain or looking closely at the clean lines of his navy, buttoned up shirt for bulges that might signify a bandage.

"Did you get proper medical attention?"

"Don't worry about it, it's all good," he says and she knows that she's not going to get any more out of him.

Clearing her throat, she starts nervously, "So, I know that you've asked me here for a reason, but there is something that I want to talk to you about."

She pauses and he nods for her to continue.

"It's about last night," she says softly, trying to keep her voice down and their conversation private.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement – as if they're talking about the weather; a movie; anything other than those achingly erotic moments on the porch – but there's a heated undercurrent to his voice and the look in his eye is telling her he knows _exactly_ what she's talking about.

Beth can feel a blush starting to darken the pale skin of her cheeks and has to force herself not to duck her head.

"Um, yes, I think that, given the fact that we work together, that can't happen again."

He watches her for a moment, consideringly, his relaxed expression never changing, and she can feel the flush deepening beneath his penetrating gaze.

"Okay," he agrees, his lips twitching as if holding back a smile.

And, just like that, she's thrown.

Unsure what she had been expecting, but certain that it wasn't _this_ , she tries to hide her confusion in her tea cup as she nods and smiles her appreciation.

"Okay. So what–"

"Are you guys ready to order?"

A young waitress has sidled over to their table, pen poised above her notepad, and doing her level best not to openly stare at Rio.

Rio, completely oblivious to the crush he's inspired, answers, "I'll have the omelette – the one with the hash brown inside – and some still water. Thanks, darlin'."

Suppressing a pang of something suspiciously close to jealousy, Beth fixes a smile in place and says, "I'll have the Turkish eggs, please."

Then the waitress is leaving their table, casting furtive looks back at Rio as she goes, and, before the silence can stretch into dangerous territory, Beth starts again, "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

She can almost see the transformation taking place as he switches into business mode and deep down there's a part of her that's sorry that she asked; sorry that she banished that normal guy with the gorgeous face and the edgy vibe, who, she's guessing, doesn't get out much.

"You wanted to learn how to handle a gun, right?"

He's looking her straight in the eye as he says this, voice so low that only she can hear, and she knows that not 24 hours ago, this line would have been dripping with innuendo. But now there's nothing but the question – plain and uncomplicated – and she tries to find comfort in that, instead of the peculiar disappointment that won't seem to dissipate.

"Right," she agrees, conscious to inject enthusiasm into her voice as she continues, "Will I be doing that today?"

He nods, "I've got some time and Max said he'd swing by too," and then by way of explanation, "Max's one of the best shots I know."

Trying not to dwell on the kind of shots he might be talking about, Beth tells him quietly, "I'm going to need a gun as well. To keep, that is."

Rio's raising an eyebrow and sitting back in his seat slightly but, to his credit, he's not making light of her request.

"I figured. And what do you plan on doin' with a gun?"

"Just a precaution."

"That all?"

She pauses – thinking back to black car or cars or potentially nothing at all – and says, "That's all."

And he shrugs his acceptance, "Okay."

Their food arrives and the meal passes in lighter, mostly one-sided, conversation. About Beth's new job and how she's been finding the return to work.

It feels at once unsettling and perfectly natural to talk to Rio about these things and Beth just goes with it; not examining either feeling too closely.

After they're finished, and he has insisted on paying for her meal, she finds herself sitting in the front seat of his Cadillac once more, heading for an undisclosed location.

Trying to distract herself from the thought of what the afternoon will bring – and from the intimacy of the enclosed space – she strokes her fingers over the smooth leather of the interior and bites back a smile as his eyes follow the movements closely.

She'd been too wound up the previous evening to pay much attention to the car itself and now that she does she can't help but be impressed.

"This is a lovely car," she says appreciatively.

Eyes now trained on road he answers, "Gets me from A to B," but she can see the small smile that tilts the corner of his mouth.

As they continue driving, she drifts into conversation on her experience at the bank with Mr Wilson asks about the kinds of jobs that she's likely to be doing in the coming weeks.

He tells her that there are a lot more cash lodgements to be made and he briefly outlines the terms of his agreement with the bank manager, who, as she had guessed, does not complete the IRS forms and, as such, there should never be a paper-trail that leads back to Beth. However, he does point out that as she is appearing on CCTV anyway, it would be no harm for her to carry out some legitimate banking activity while she's there, as an extra precaution.

They agree that a number of methods can be used for the drop, including Beth collecting cash from his car and Rio delivering it to her house in the guise of a gift.

"You could also deliver to me at work," she suggests, "Well not you personally, but someone dressed as a courier wouldn't draw any notice."

He's silent for a moment, considering this, and then he asks, "Is there somewhere secure that you could store a package at work?"

"Yes, actually, there's a locked cabinet in Gabe's office that he let me use last week. That's about as secure as it gets in there."

There's a stillness settling over him now – a tension in his hand on the wheel and a muscle ticking in his jaw – and he takes his eyes from the road for a moment to pin her with a quick, questioning look.

"You discussed our arrangement with Gabe?"

"No," she replies honestly, "I just asked him if I could store my briefcase in his office for a couple of hours."

"Good," he tells her firmly, in a tone that brooks no argument, and then, "Don't."

Conscious that today is about Rio trying to make good on his broken word to give her more information on the jobs that she'll be doing and to teach her how to shoot, Beth relaxes a little more in her seat and stares out the window in comfortable silence as they continue onwards.

Reaching an unfamiliar industrial estate a short time later, Beth watches curiously as they wind their way deeper into the heart of the deserted block of shuttered businesses, before pulling up at a modest sized unit that, unlike the others, has a car parked outside.

Exiting the warm comfort of the Cadillac and pulling her black woollen coat more tightly about herself, Beth follows Rio over to the small metal door, which he is holding for her, waiting for her to precede him inside.

Stepping through the doorway with a confidence that she is far from feeling, she sees a long, rectangular warehouse opening up before her, empty apart from the two cardboard targets set against the back wall, close to where a guy she doesn't recognise is kneeling beside a duffle bag.

Looking up, he gets to his feet and comes towards her, casually holding a handgun with a silencer attached, and it's all she can do to hold her ground and not retreat back through the door which has just banged closed behind her.

Glancing back at Rio, she is breathes a silent sigh of relief when he moves forward without hesitation to greet who, she's assuming, must be Max.

"Max, thanks for comin' man," a pause and then he's gesturing back towards Beth, "This is Elizabeth."

Stepping forward until she can shake Max's outstretched hand she tells him, "Call me Beth," and she can't help but smile at the evident curiosity in his eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Beth," he drawls in an accent that she can't quite place.

He's tall, perhaps six foot four, wearing dark jeans and a black hoody with the sleeves pushed up, and every inch of exposed skin on his forearms and hands is covered with intricate tattoos.

"So you want to learn how to shoot, huh?" he asks and she nods, watching as he beckons her with a tilt of his head towards the torso-shaped targets at the back of the warehouse.

Glancing at Rio, she unconsciously waits for his nod of encouragement before she follows Max to where he's stopped, midway down the concrete space.

"Okay, so, we're going to start off with some basic gun safety. This here?" he waves the gun in his hand, "This is a Glock 19. It takes a 15 round clip," – which he takes briefly out of the pocket of his hoody – "But before we load it, I want you to understand that your finger is your safety switch for this gun."

He pauses to make sure she's following him and Beth asks, "So, it doesn't have a safety switch?"

"No," he agrees, clarifying, " If you don't want to fire this gun, don't put your finger on the trigger."

"Okay," she murmurs, unsure how comfortable she is with that but then nothing about this particular situation is necessarily comfortable.

Next, Max shows her how to load and unload the magazine and how to release a bullet into the chamber.

Then, before she knows it, she's standing with her feet shoulder with apart and the gun in her outstretched hands and he's telling her to bring it up to her eye-line, to align the sight to just beneath her chosen point on the target, and to fire.

Aiming for the centre of the head, she takes a deep and pulls the trigger. The soft kickback of gun, which sends a small jolt of shock through her outstretched arms, registers at the same time as the loud pop of the weapon discharging, despite the silencer, and then she's blinking and peering at the target, which, she can now see, has remained completely unscathed.

Laughing somewhat self-consciously, her eyes instinctively find Rio, who has remained twenty yards away, close to the door. His phone is in his hand but he's clearly been watching her and the open amusement in his smile causes some unnamed tension to ease inside her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he calls, "It takes practice."

Determined to do better, and secretly wishing she could have been one of the few who hit it on their first try, she levels the gun again and fires. Still no bullet holes in the cardboard torso.

The next half an hour is spent working on her posture and grip, in between rounds, and her aim is getting better, slowly, but noticeably. She's been hitting the general target at least, if not her actual intended point on the board.

Feeling restricted by the heavy layer of her woollen coat, she shrugs out of it and lays it carefully down on top of the duffle bag before getting back into position. Going through the necessary motions again, she calls to Max, "Would it help if you stood behind me and showed me how to position this better?"

A pause.

"We can give it a try," he says as he takes up position close behind her, crouching down to her eye level and carefully reaching along her arm to nudge the position of the gun slightly.

"I take it we're aiming for his head?" he asks and she nods, steadying the gun again.

"You don't have to grip the base so tightly; imagine a firm handshake – that's the kind of pressure you want to use. Make sure the sight is aligned with where the chin would be and… fire."

She does and a bullet pierces the white of the cardboard an inch away from the head. Satisfaction swells within her and she beams back at Max, noticing as she does so that Rio has moved silently across the floor to stand nearby.

"Not bad, darlin'."

The words are light but she knows him well enough to hear the undercurrent of tension in his voice.

Evidently, so does Max.

He steps back and says, "I've gotta go make a call," before walking the length of the warehouse and pushing through the metal door with a heavy clang.

Watching her for a moment in silence, Rio walks over to take Max's position and calls softly, "Try again."

Unlike when she had Max at her back, Beth is now hyper-conscious of her body as she cocks the gun and brings it level, adding her left hand to steady the tremors.

Distracted by what he must be seeing, she pictures the navy material of her tight denim jeans where it stretches over the curve of her backside, below the soft green lines of her sweater.

Shifting slightly on her feet, her breath catches in her throat as she feels Rio right behind her now, his body flush against her, and then he's reaching forward; his strong arms bracketing her own; his warm hands steadying her grasp on the thick base of the gun.

Breath hot against her ear he says softly, "Okay sweetheart, now just breathe." And, with the heated memory of the previous night blazing in her mind, it takes every ounce of will power that she has to fight the temptation to push her hips back against his or to turn in his arms and to take every moment of pleasure that those beautiful lips have to offer.

Focusing on the gun in her hands, as if her very life depends on it, she slowly succeeds in evening her shallow breathing and aligning it to the deep rise and fall of his chest against her back.

"Good," he murmurs, the low rumble of his voice doing all kinds of sinful things to her insides.

"Now, I want you to gently squeeze the trigger."

Biting down hard on her lower lip, she does. And it takes her a second to register that the bullet has pierced the head of the target.

Feeling almost feint beneath a heady mixture of desire and elation, she twists her head back to look at him and the excited laughter bubbling in her throat dies at the searing hunger in his gaze.

In front of her, their arms are dropping together until the weight of the gun comes to rest against the hard zipper of her jeans. And still he doesn't remove his hands.

Time freezes.

The only thing that exists now is the feeling of his body against her, his arms around her and the fierce, undeniable need for _more_.

" _Fuck,_ Elizabeth," he growls, finally loosening his grip and stepping backwards until there's nothing but space in between them.

"I think we're done for today, yeah?" his tone is clipped and he doesn't give her a chance to respond before he continues, "There's somewhere I gotta be; Max'll take you back to your car."

And then he's walking away, fast, as if he can't get out of there quickly enough; down the concrete length of the warehouse and through the metal door.

And she's left there, staring after him in a dense haze of frustration and confusion, unsure of what just happened or why she even cares.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Beth?"

Glancing up from the screen of her computer, Beth smiles at Sofía as the receptionist approaches her desk.

"There's a package for you and the courier wouldn't let me sign for it. Could you please pop out to him?"

Pulse kicking in response, she replies "Of course," keeping her tone as light as possible, conscious to behave as if she's just as puzzled by this as Sofía evidently is.

Walking down the hall, she takes a couple of deep breaths and braces herself in anticipation of the sight one of Rio's guys stood in their lobby, dressed as a courier and holding a package full of cash.

Instead, what she sees is a teenager that she doesn't recognise – a kid, who can't be more than 17 – dressed in all the trappings of a bike messenger, leaning casually against the reception desk and scrolling through something on the screen of his smartphone.

Looking up as she approaches, there's a spark of recognition in his eye as he asks, "You Elizabeth Boland?"

Smiling through her confusion she nods, "Yes – you need my signature for something?"

"Yeah, if you could just write your name anywhere in that box," he replies, handing her an electronic scanning device and a stylus, before opening the large messenger bag slung around his slim frame and pulling out a cardboard box.

Scrawling her name clumsily across the small screen, Beth hands the device back and accepts the box that the messenger thrusts towards her, watching as he immediately takes off towards the exit and disappears from sight.

Wondering if he has any knowledge of what's in the box, or who sent it, she moves back towards her desk, smiling her thanks to Sofía as she goes.

Inside she's conflicted.

Either the courier – the _kid_ – doesn't know what's in the package and is unaware of the danger that Rio had placed him in or he does know, which could only mean that he works for the same person that she does. And it's one thing for her or any other grown adult to choose to be in involved in this kind of business but it's quite another for a kid not even old enough to vote to take something like this on.

Or to be taken on in the first place.

There are some young guys involved in Rio's business, girls too, she knows that – has seen them at the warehouse – but this kid is young even by those standards and it doesn't sit well with her that he had been placed in a compromising position on the back of an idea that she herself had had.

Knowing that she would be naive to think that there aren't others like him in Rio's employ – distributing products a lot more dangerous than dollar bills – she clamps down on the discomfort and turns her attention back to the task at hand.

Stopping by her desk just long enough to check Gabe's schedule, she continues down the quiet, carpeted hall to his office. Knocking briefly on the door, she doesn't wait for a response before she pushes it open and steps inside.

Gabe, who has paused in the action of reading a sheaf of papers, looks at her questioningly, "Beth, everything ok?"

"Yes, I just wondered if I could use your cabinet again – to store this package in for a couple of hours."

She keeps her tone light and free of implication.

He pauses for a beat before nodding and waving her towards the cabinet in the corner, which already has the keys hanging from the lock.

"This package," he asks, "It was delivered to you, here?"

His tone is neutral but she picks up on the undercurrent of worry, perhaps, or anger – she's not quite sure.

"Yes."

Laughter, rich and unexpected, fills the room, and then he's saying with dark amusement, "That son of a bitch."

Her lips twitch in response and she rushes to say, "I hope that's not a problem – I'll be taking it with me today. And if it concerns you, I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

Gabe is holding up a hand before she has even finished speaking and shaking his head, "No, that won't be necessary."

But the good humour is fading from his face as he fixes her with a serious look and says, "Just be careful, Beth."

Pulse kicking a little faster in her veins, Beth holds his gaze and replies simply, "I am," before dropping the key on to his desk and heading towards the door, keenly aware of his curious eyes on her back.

/\/\/\/\

Double checking that the alarm system is armed, Beth walks tiredly through the living room and kitchen, switching off the lights as she goes, before heading down the darkened hall towards the welcoming comfort of her bedroom.

Although she is so tried she could lie down on the comforter right now and fall asleep in her clothes, her mind is busy with thoughts of what she she'll do with the kids tomorrow evening – how she'll make their first Friday night at home in a month special; of how good it would be to meet up with Ruby and Annie for a weekend play-date with all of the kids; of the lodgement at the bank two days earlier that had gone off without a hitch; and finally, irritatingly, of the radio silence from Rio, which has been ongoing since they parted ways last Saturday.

Sighing, she goes through the motions of her night-time routine, trying determinedly not to think about _him_ , before finally slipping beneath the soft weight of the duvet and curling up sleepily in the centre of the big bed. It had taken a while to get used to sleeping alone, and the quality of rest she's getting isn't great, but it is no longer a painful exercise to fall asleep without the comforting warmth of a body beside her.

Drifting off a short time later, she is suddenly started awake by the sound of a worried voice in the darkened room.

"Mom? I think there's someone in the garden."

Eyes flicking open, she takes in the shadowy figure of Kenny standing beside the bed.

Ice forming in her veins, she fights to keep her expression neutral as she slides from beneath the covers and takes his face in her hands. The fact that he doesn't immediately brush her off is a testament to how afraid he feels.

"Why do you think that, sweetheart?"

"Because I saw them," he whispers, "I was getting a drink of water and I looked out into the garden and I saw someone under the trees."

Smoothing her hand through his spiky hair, she murmurs, "I'm sure it was nothing sweetie; just the trees moving in the wind. Why don't we get you back upstairs to bed."

Sensing that he wants to argue with her but needing to move him away from the vulnerable glass doors in her bedroom, which lead directly out to the garden, she snatches her phone from the night-table and gently but quickly leads Kenny down the hall and up the stairs towards his room.

"Get back in to bed sweetie – I'll go and get you that glass of water and then I'll be right back, I promise."

Slipping silently from the room and back down the stairs, she fumbles to unlock her phone and is hitting call on Rio's number before she has time to second guess herself.

The phone rings and rings and Beth's heart is about to explode from her chest with fright when he finally answers, "Elizabeth?"

"There's someone in the garden," she whispers frantically and there's a taut pause before he says, "I'll call you back," and then the line goes dead.

Reeling in shock, she is too stunned to move as she stares at the glowing, blank screen in her hand. _Had he really hung up on her?_ Snapping herself out of it a moment later, she places the ringer on silent and grabs the baseball bat in the hall as she heads into the kitchen to get Kenny's water. Sticking to the shadows and keeping out of sight of the windows, she retrieves the water and darts quickly from the kitchen. Moving silently through the hall she hesitates at the foot of the stairs; the glass in one hand, baseball bat in the other and her phone tucked securely beneath her arm.

Her every instinct is screaming at her to get upstairs to her babies but there's another part of her that knows that if someone's going to break in to her house, it makes sense that they'll do it from the ground floor. And if they want to get upstairs, they are going to have to go through her first.

A vibration under her arm nearly causes Beth to drop the glass of water in fright and her temper flares sharply as she sees Rio's name flashing up on the screen.

"Rio, what the hell–"

"It's one of my guys, Elizabeth; nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep."

One of his… it takes a moment to fully process the words and then she's slumping down onto the bottom step of the stairs, the weight of her relief oppressively heavy; the baseball bat still clutched tightly in her hand.

"I don't understand."

"I asked him to drop by."

She is silent as she considers this, her racing heart slowly resuming a steady rhythm in her chest.

"Why?"

She can hear him exhaling impatiently down the line and then he's tossing her lie from last week right back at her, saying, "Just a precaution."

"Against what, Rio?" she asks angrily, her own impatience rising.

"Against neighbourhood freakshows," he snaps sarcastically before continuing harshly, "What do you think?"

He sounds tired, exhausted even, and there's a small part of her that surprisingly wants to drop it; wants to trust Rio to take care of the unknown threat and is, perhaps even more shockingly, reluctant to add to the weight of the stress that she can hear in his voice.

But those are her babies up there – her world – and she can't entrust their protection to anyone other than herself. Not even to someone as experienced and resourceful as Rio.

"I'm going to need you to be straight with me on this," she whispers firmly, "And I'm definitely going to need that gun."

/\/\/\/\

"Guys? Where's your brother? Where's Kenny?" asks Beth, passing out coats and backpacks and getting ready to hit the road.

When they just shrug, unconcerned, she starts up the stairs calling, "Kenny? It's time to go."

Pushing open the door to his room, her heart clenches tightly in her chest as she finds him standing at the window, staring off towards the trees at the bottom of their garden.

Tone softening she says gently, "Come on sweetie, we're going to be late for school."

Moving away from the window, he slips past her out of the room and down the stairs without a word.

Following more slowly behind, she is awash with guilt at the worry and confusion that is evident on his face. It had taken well over an hour for him to get back to sleep the previous night, even with her lying beside him – only returning to her own bed in the small hours of the morning.

Yawning, she grabs her own coat and bag and herds them out the door, towards the car.

/\/\/\/\

It's a busy day in work and she doesn't have much time to dwell on anything other than her workload.

Shortly before she's due to finish up for the day, her office phone rings.

"Beth, would you mind dropping by my office?" Gabe asks, "I'm having a, um, technical difficulty and can't get Rachel on the phone."

Knowing that Rachel won't be back from her lunchbreak any time soon, she agrees and is greeted by a sheepish looking Gabe a few moments later as she enters his office. Gesturing to the screen in front of him he elaborates, "I need to copy a graph from Excel into this Word document but it's just not happening."

Laughing, she rounds the desk to get a better view and asks, "May I?"

Standing up, he offers her his chair so that she can access the computer more easily and then leans in over her shoulder to watch as she begins to run through the steps required to embed the graph into the document that he's been working on. Completing the task with swift efficiency, she is saving the final copy to the drive when the door to the office opens. She looks up, expecting to see one of her colleagues, only to freeze in shock as her eyes meet the dark intensity of Rio's.

Startled to see him here, she is suddenly hyper-conscious of the proximity of Gabe's body to her own and is momentarily lost for words.

Rio's smile is sharp as he takes in her position behind the CEO's desk and he drawls, "Another day another kingdom, huh?"

Hearing the sting in his words, and aware of Gabe's casual but obvious movement away, Beth can feel her cheeks heating with traitorous colour. Something she knows does not go unnoticed.

Pushing back from the desk, she stands and watches as Gabe crosses the room to greet Rio with open arms.

"Rio, _mano!_ I wasn't expecting you."

Rio's smile is sardonic, his expression one of dark amusement, as he accepts Gabe's loose embrace and continues to hold Beth's gaze.

"I stopped by to talk to Elizabeth – we got some business to discuss – ain't that right, darlin'?"

Feeling thrown by his presence – and by his attitude – she answers, "I guess so."

Gabe is smiling at them, oblivious to the tension in the room, saying, "Please, use my office – I was just on my way out to lunch anyway. Thanks again for your help, Beth, and, Rio; it's good to see you man."

A few short moments later he's gone and Rio is crossing the carpeted office towards her, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black hoody.

Expecting him to round the desk, she is somewhat surprised when he takes a seat on the opposite side and gestures for her to sit back down in Gabe's plush chair. Aware of his eyes on her she does so, she is conscious of her tight, grey pencil skirt riding another couple of inches up her thigh and has to fight the instinct to readjust skirt and the clinging material of her white blouse.

"You wanted a gun," he states, leaning forward to place a gun and a loaded clip of bullets on the desk between them with a heavy clunk. Picking it up and testing the shape in her hands, Beth recognises that it's the same model that she had practised with the previous weekend – a Glock 19.

"Thank you for this," she says sincerely, "But you still need to tell me what's going on. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

"You ain't dealin' with nothin'. This ain't your fight, sweetheart."

His tone is firm, telling her there's no room for argument, but she's not letting it go that easily.

"Then why are your guys at my house in the middle of the night? Why is my 11 year old son being terrorised by thoughts of strange men lurking in the shadows?"

"Kenny?" he asks with surprise and she is momentarily distracted by the realisation that he knows her children by name.

"Yes; it was Kenny that saw him – whoever he was – in our backyard last night."

"I see," he says. His face is impassive and his tone neutral but she knows he's not pleased. "Look, I'm sorry about that and I've already spoken to my men about being more discrete."

"What's going on, Rio?"

He's sighing now, leaning forward to rasp a hand across his jaw and he's still wearing the closed expression that had descended over his face the moment that he had opened the door to the office.

"It's like I told you before – your association with me? That makes you a person of interest and I've been feelin' quite a lot of heat since my stint in Federal custody."

Almost subconsciously, he flexes the shoulder that must still be healing and her stomach drops at the thought that she had been responsible, albeit indirectly, for causing him that pain.

"How often are your guys at my house?"

There's a pause as he looks back at her, expression totally blank, and she doesn't think he's going to answer at first but then he says roughly, "Often enough."

She digests this for a moment before asking, "Is there any reason for you to think that there is a particular threat against me?"

There's no hesitation as he answers, "No."

Although she feels some small measure of relief to hear this, she can't help thinking of those cars that might have been following her over the last few weeks and wondering if there is more to this than either of them have realised.

"You know, there was something that bothered me recently – two things actually – but it seemed silly to mention them at the time," she pauses and can see that she has his undivided attention.

Briefly describing the two separate events, she watches his expression closely for some flicker of response that might tell her how much he's still keeping from her but, frustratingly, she gets nothing.

"I see," he says again and then asks tightly, "Is there a reason you didn't mention this before?"

Her temper flares at his tone and she replies, "Like I said – it might have been nothing – there wasn't really anything to mention."

"You keep things like that to yourself and people get hurt, you feel me?"

It has been posed as a question but she can feel the weight of the command behind it and her temper rises higher still.

"Trust is a two-way street, Rio."

He laughs at that, a short, unamused sound, and looks down at his hands briefly before pinning her with a steady stare.

"Let me clarify somethin' for you. In this line of work, trust don't equate to information. You share information with someone and you put both yourself and them at risk. Trust me; if you need to know somethin', you will."

Wanting to argue this point but knowing it's not going to get her anywhere, Beth changes track.

"How am I supposed to know the difference between one of your guys and a genuine threat if you won't give me more information?"

"I'll have one of 'em discuss the schedule with you. Might be a good idea to introduce 'em to Kenny, too."

Surprised at the practical solution that he's suggesting to calming Kenny's fears – that he's suggested any solution at all – she's silent for a moment before she questions something that's been bothering her since he arrived.

"Why are we meeting here and not at the house? I thought the idea was to keep the attention off me while I'm at work."

He shrugs evasively, "It just suited is all."

With her confusion growing over his behaviour, and knowing that she's not going to get much more out of him today, she merely nods and says, "I have to get going to pick the kids up from school, is there anything else that you want to tell me before I go?"

There's a sarcastic note in her voice and she can see that he hears it too as the corner of his mouth lifts in a sardonic smile and he answers, "Nah, that's it for today, sweetheart."

And then he's getting up and holding the door for her – allowing slightly less space for her to pass then he could have – and the warm scent of his aftershave teases her senses as she slips out into the corridor.

Walking towards her desk without a backward glance, she keeps her head high and her shoulders straight, concealing her inner turmoil and refusing to give in to the urge to turn on her heel and ask him exactly what the hell his problem is.

The weekend passes in a comfortable parade of family activities with Annie, Ruby and the kids. Household chores are set aside as Beth enjoys having her children around for the first weekend in over a month and then, all too soon, it's Sunday evening and the kitchen is a mess – with dishes and laundry piled high – and for once in her life she doesn't feel like a failure for it.

True to his word, Rio had sent The Paddy over the previous morning to discuss the security schedule with her and she is still reeling from the realisation that the frequency of cover – which Rio had casually described as _"Often enough,"_ – is actually a 24 hour operation.

Aware that this should be making her feel safer, _more_ secure, she can't help but worry about the implied seriousness of the threat facing her family and the information that Rio continues to keep from her.

She had followed his advice and introduced The Paddy to Kenny as part of the neighbourhood watch group and it had gone even better than she could have expected. The Paddy had explained to Kenny that he sometimes moves through the backyards of houses at night to make sure that there are no trespassers and Kenny had completely accepted this.

Filling the washing machine with another load, she continues to feel conflicted between gratitude for Rio's help in providing protection for her family and anger that he continues to withhold information that could be crucial to safeguarding them.

Or maybe she is just furious with herself for putting her family in this position and Rio is just an easy target.

/\/\/\/\

The following week passes by in a flurry of school, work and home-related activities. Two more packages are delivered to her work – both by the same young courier as before – and Beth makes the lodgements without incident.

Her savings are starting to build up again and she's thankful for the extra income but she's also keenly aware that Annie has yet to be brought back in and that she, more than anyone, desperately needs the cash.

Ruby is done and Beth doesn't blame her although it won't be the same, working in this business, without her.

Cleaning up the dishes after her solitary Friday night dinner at home, she messages Rio to set up a meeting so that she can talk to him about bringing Annie back in.

" _Your place or mine?"_

Her initial amusement at the question, given the fact that she has no clue where he lives, is spiked with an unexpected discomfort as she realises that she really knows next to nothing about this man.

Her phone flashes to indicate an incoming call from Rio and she pauses for a moment, unprepared for the call and unsure of what to say.

Before she has time to say anything he asks impatiently, "What's up?"

 _What's up?_

She's hardly going to discuss _what's up_ over the phone.

Unperturbed by his grouchy manner, she teases, "Is that any way to speak to your mistress?"

Silence.

A sigh, and then, "I'm busy right now, Elizabeth."

"Right," she says sarcastically, "And I was just phoning up to waste your time."

More silence.

"Look Rio, it's important and it won't take long; 10 minutes max."

"Fine," he concedes, impatiently, "I'll drop by tonight."

/\/\/\/\

Beth spends the evening catching up on household chores and then, when she's too tired to carry on with those, she curls up with her book on the sofa.

When Rio hasn't come by at 10pm she tells herself she'll give him another hour and then go to bed. When he's not there by 11.45pm she finally does to go.

Sliding into a fitful doze she is snapped back to consciousness some time later at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Loath to leave the warm comfort of her bed but unwilling to pass up the opportunity to talk to him about Annie, she slips out of the covers and throws her dark blue kimono over her navy satin pyjamas and pads softly down the hall to the front door in her slippers.

Opening the door a crack she can see Rio's black Cadillac parked beside the house and assumes he's still in the driver's seat. Grabbing her keys from the rack, she steps through the door and pulls it firmly closed behind her.

The cold air hits her as she descends the steps towards the car and she pulls the kimono tightly around her; a seriously ineffective barrier against the freezing cold air. Approaching the car she is nonplussed to see that the driver's seat is empty and the Rio is nowhere in sight.

Assuming that he must be somewhere on the property talking to his guy on watch, she slips around the side of the house and in to the back garden. Scanning the dark canopy she sees nothing and is about to turn away when Rio steps out of the trees and starts to cross the garden towards her.

The night is dark and overcast but the moon is peering through the clouds to cast a silvery light over him.

He's wearing a dark sweater with the hood raised in that haphazard style that he favours and his hands, as usual, are thrust deep in the pockets. It has been over a week since she's seen him and his solemn face in the moonlight is a more appealing sight than it should have been.

Beth's heart thumps violently in her chest and she is suddenly keenly aware of her state of undress.

Schooling her features into a neutral smile she calls softly, "Hey, thanks for coming," her teeth chattering slightly as she does so.

Taking in her over obviously very cold form, he gestures to the back door saying, "Let's get you inside."

Walking with him towards her house, as the intimacy of the dark night presses in around them, Beth is momentarily lost for words and Rio doesn't seem in any great hurry to break the silence.

The strange tension in the air only increases as they enter the house and she closes and locks the door behind them. Turning to switch on the lights, she catches Rio's eye in the moonlit kitchen and the naked hunger that she sees there takes her breath away.

Seeing his gaze drop to her chest, she doesn't need to look down to know that her kimono has slipped from her shoulders and that the cold air outside has brought her nipples to stiff attention beneath the satin sheen of her pyjama top.

Pulse pounding in her veins, she watches as his eyes shift back to hers and there's a moment of utter stillness before they're both moving – reaching for each other – and then his cold hands are sliding up her throat and into her hair; tilting her mouth up to meet his in a hot and hungry kiss that damn near incinerates her on the spot.

Deepening the kiss with unapologetic demand, Rio brushes a hand beneath the satin hem of her top, his rough palm shaping her waist and spine, arching her body against him as they stumble backwards into the kitchen. Feeling the edge of a wooden stool against her legs, Beth slides up on to it, her mouth never leaving his, and then he's stepping forward into the space between her thighs, bringing the hard jut of his denim-clad erection into sharp contact with the pulsing need at her core.

Moaning into his mouth, she locks her legs around his hips and moves sensually against him; his muffled curse encouraging her to repeat the motion as she tugs down the zipper of his hoody and tosses the heavy garment aside, eager for more skin-to skin contact.

Sliding her hands beneath the warm cotton of his t-shirt and tracing her way across the muscular contours of his back, she bites down sharply on his lower lip when he rocks the hard length of his cock heavily against the slick heat between her thighs, causing him to inhale sharply in response.

Grinning his approval, he presses her back onto the countertop, her elbows resting against the cool surface, and then he trails his lips down the smooth column of her throat and down her chest, undoing the buttons of her pyjama top as he goes.

Whole body alight with anticipation, she watches as he opens the final button and then pauses before her, the two halves of her top held tightly together in fisted hands, and the dark intensity of his eyes burns into her own as he draws in a ragged breath and rasps harshly, "Tell me to stop."

There's a strangled quality to his words, as if he knows that one of them needs to call a halt to this madness and yet knows too that it's not going to be him.

Struggling to think coherently through the dense fog of need that is consuming every fibre of her being, she looks down at him, poised above her body, his face drawn in harsh lines of barely restrained arousal, and she knows that she's never seen anything more erotic in her life.

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps breathlessly, tensing her thigs around his hips, and his dark chuckle does all kinds of sinful things to her insides as he tugs the silky material open to expose the generous swell of her breasts to his gaze.

" _Fuck!"_ he groans, bending his head to plant open-mouthed kisses down the slope of her breast before taking one pink nipple in his mouth, his tongue wreaking havoc on her senses as his strong hands explore the heavy mounds of her curves. Then he's moving to the other breast and using the sharp edge of his teeth against the taut flesh of her nipple and Beth hisses in sweet pleasure/pain, reaching down to tug his lips up towards her own and moving her body with increasing demand against his.

Mouths locked in another mind-shattering kiss, she tugs at the soft material of his t-shirt and then he's pulling it over his head, tossing it aside, and she has a single moment to appreciate the muscular beauty of his upper body and the intricate tattoos that cover much of the exposed skin and then he's clasping her neck in that light, proprietary hold and taking her mouth again and it's all she can do not to whimper in pure pleasure as the warm wall of his chest crushes against the heavy weight of her breasts and the hard jut of his cock thrusts against the wet heat between her thighs.

The thin barrier of their clothing is getting to be too much and, desperate to take everything that he can give her, she gasps his name and he pulls back an inch to stare down at her, his own wild hunger starkly evident as he asks, voice rough, "What do you want, Elizabeth?"

She hesitates for a split second – sure of what she wants but unsure of her ability to verbalise it – and then breathes simply, "You."

And then they're both moving together, pulling and tugging at clothing until there's nothing left to separate their naked forms and when he reaches for her this time, and she slides her legs around his hips, it brings the silky length of his cock against the slick bundle of nerves at her core and Beth moans softly at the sheer perfection of it.

Testing her body's readiness to take him, Rio slides the thick length of his cock slowly back and forth against her clit and further down, to barely press against the very place that she wants him, and Beth could almost scream with frustration.

"Now, Rio," she gasps impatiently and can feel his answering smile against her lips as he teases wickedly, "Now, what, baby?"

He's really going to make her say it.

Sliding her hand down his torso to grasp the thick length of him and guide the glistening head to her slick entrance, she says huskily, "I need you inside me, now."

His breath hisses from between clenched teeth – all signs of teasing now gone – and he holds her gaze intently as be begins to inch slowly inside her.

Fuck he's big.

Beth can feel her internal walls stretching to accommodate the almost painfully large size of him and she moans softly as he withdraws, all the way to the tip, only to thrust back in; burying the full length of his shaft inside her.

Taking her lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, he gives her just a few seconds to get accustomed to him before he starts to move with barely restrained power and Beth meets the potent dominance of his hunger with the wild abandon of her own.

The coiling tension inside her is winding unbearably tight and she knows that she's hurtling towards an orgasm. The intoxicating feeling of Rio's cock inside her, of his hands and his mouth on her body, is driving her towards the brink faster than she would have thought possible.

A delicious tug on her hair forces her head back and lifts her breasts towards his mouth and then he's biting down hard on her nipple and the world shatters around her.

Riding wave after wave of intense pleasure, she comes back down to earth to the delicious feeling of those unapologetically powerful thrusts and the sound of a sensual groan as Rio increases the pace and slips a hand between their bodies to press his thumb against the sensitised nub of her clit.

Gasping against his mouth, she nips at his bottom lip and moves with him, feeling another organism building impossibly fast, and then he's slamming his hips against hers in one final, powerful thrust, his thumb working expertly against the most sensitive part of her, and then they're both coming together; their harsh cries laboured breath echoing around the darkened kitchen.

This time when she comes around it's to the feeling of Rio stirring against her as he straightens up to catch her eye, slowly withdrawing his half-hard cock from her body. Holding his gaze unflinchingly, she sees the tiniest hint of a smile as he drops a kiss on her lips and murmurs, "I guess now we know."

"What?"

"That it's just that good between us."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Standing beneath the hot jets of the shower, washing the remnants of their passion from her body, Beth can't quite believe how she ended up here; can't believe that Rio is in the bathroom upstairs doing exactly the same thing.

So much for not mixing business with pleasure but, _damn; that pleasure._

Biting her lip, she steps out of the cubicle and towels herself dry. Running a brush through her hair, she slips on fresh underwear and a pair of forest green pyjamas before donning the kimono and leaving her bedroom. It's not what she wants to be wearing to see Rio off but it's also 01.30am so she's just going to have to suck it up.

There's a twist in her stomach at the thought that he's not staying – having already told her he has other things to do that night – but she dismisses that as a classically female response in the aftermath of sex. It's probably common to go your separate ways after a casual sexual encounter – it's not like she'd have much first-hand experience to draw on.

Padding back down the hall on bare feet, she finds Rio in the sitting room in an arm chair, looking deliciously casual in his black t-shirt and jeans, and he smiles faintly as she walks in and crosses to the liquor cabinet.

"You want one?" she asks, waving a whiskey glass in his direction.

Leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, he replies, "Just a small one; gotta hit the road soon."

Pouring each of them a short glass of the amber liquid, Beth hands one to Rio and then takes a seat on the sofa to his right, curling her feet beneath her and warming the whiskey in her hands before taking the first sip.

"So," says Rio easily, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Grateful to have a relatively neutral topic to land on, she answers, "Annie; she wants to start working for you again."

Nodding he takes a mouthful of his drink and is silent for a moment.

"You know we're in a shut-down, yeah? Ain't that many jobs to go 'round."

Knowing this must be true – that many of his usual crew must be currently out of a job – she considers this before suggesting, "She could help me with the lodgements. We could double the number of bank visits per week and could even use a different bank if you have more than one. Presumably that's not something that you can have just anyone working on?"

He laughs at that and she wants to explain her reasoning but all he says is, "Yeah, you ladies certainly got an edge there."

Thinking it over he finishes off his drink and sets the empty glass down on the coffee table. "Fine. But the same rules apply for her; no more second chances."

And then he's standing up and sliding on his hoody, making sure he has his phone and car keys, before heading for the front door.

Beth walks him the short distance, her pulse picking up speed as she wonders nervously how they'll leave it; will he kiss her or just take off?

She opens the door and stands back saying, "Goodnight, Rio, and thank you," before hastily clarifying, "For taking Annie back on."

Stepping forward he clasps the side of her face with one rough palm and takes her lips in a lingering kiss. There's a new familiarity between their bodies now and what started out as a simple kiss quickly becomes heated.

Pulling back regretfully, Rio murmurs, "Goodnight, Elizabeth," before tripping lightly down the front steps towards his car.

/\/\/\

Taking another bite of her delicious pancake stack, Beth once again fails to hide the smile that won't seem to leave her face as Ruby and Annie look on suspiciously.

"What's _up_ with you?" asks Annie curiously, "You've barely stopped smiling since we got here." ('Here' being their favourite local diner.)

Forcing her features into a more neutral pose Beth replies brightly, "Nothing. I just had a good week, that's all."

"And this good week would have nothing to do with a certain Gang Friend of yours, would it?" asks Ruby sceptically, and it takes all of Beth's willpower not to blush to the roots of her hair.

"No!" she exclaims, "It's just that things have finally settled down in work, and Dean and I have a good routine going with the kids – things are just finally falling into place, you know?"

Knowing that they're not quite convinced she quickly changes track, "And Annie, I spoke to Rio – he's going to let you back in."

Watching the relief on her sisters face, Beth feels bad that she hadn't mentioned this before now – they have been at the diner for almost 45 minutes already – but, honestly, she can barely hold a sensible conversation while the memories of last night are still so fresh in her mind.

Shifting in her seat, she can't help picturing the stark beauty of Rio's naked body, bathed in moonlight and doing sinfully delicious things to her own…

"Hello?! Earth to Beth!"

Annie's voice reaches her through the heated fog, snapping her back to the present.

"Did his highness happen to mention when he'd be needing my services?" Annie asks, her words dripping with amused innuendo, and Beth has to steel herself against the hot flash of jealousy that streaks through her.

"Um, no," she answers quickly, "But the next lodgement is scheduled for Wednesday so it'll probably be then."

Voice dropping, she explains the format for deliveries and lodgements and notes, "I guess they'll deliver to you at work – I'm sure whoever does the drop off for Fine 'n Frugal' can double up for you."

As Annie and Ruby began to discuss the logistics, Beth's mind wonders again to the previous night. She's bursting to share the news, particularly with Ruby, but something is holding her back – telling her to keep this information to herself. Because to expose it to the cold light of day might be to destroy it, before it has even begun.

Besides, she wouldn't know what to say about it anyway. She has no idea what this thing that they have started is – only what it's not; what it can never be.

And admitting that to her closest friends isn't something that she's ready to do.

/\/\/\

When the doorbell chimes unexpectedly that afternoon, Beth can't suppress the tiny flicker of hope that it will be Rio waiting on her porch, even as she recognises how unlikely it is that he would actually ring the doorbell.

Pulling the door open, she is surprised and then confused to see a deliveryman holding a large bouquet of beautiful white roses.

Feeling an odd lurch in her chest, she mentally shuts down any flicker of expectation as the man enquires, "Elizabeth Boland?"

He barely waits for her nod before continuing, "Please sign here."

Scrawling her name across the screen that he holds in her direction, Beth takes the cardboard box that has acted as a temporary vase for the roses and closes the front door, bringing the flowers into the kitchen for further inspection.

There's a small white card embedded within the bouquet and she lifts it hesitantly, unsure of what she might find written there.

Recognising Rio's neat cursive, she reads:

 _Be at the Bloomfield Hills Country Club tonight at 8._ _  
_ _Bring the gift and wear something sexy._

Reading and rereading the message a few more times, her focus shifts to the box containing the flowers. Lifting the delicate stalks from their packaging, she peers inside the would-be empty box and spots the neat stacks of $100 bills at the bottom, protected by a thick plastic wrapping.

 _Of course,_ she thinks, _just another delivery._ Trying to ignore the quick stab of emotion that flares within her at the realisation, she turns towards the sink and selects an appropriate vase on autopilot. _What else would it have been?_

But even as she asks herself this, she's carrying the beautiful flowers past the waiting vase on the counter and dumping them in the garbage can.

/\/\/\

Stepping through the ornate double doors and into the Bloomfield Hills Country Club, Beth can't shake the vague feeling of unease that always accompanies her in places such as this one. It is an elitist haven for the one percenters - not somewhere Beth has ever belonged, despite being a previous membership of the Club.

It had been Dean that had signed them up a number of years ago. It was supposed to help the business but, in reality, Beth knew that he enjoyed this lifestyle – the golf and drinks with his buddies, but also the elitism that surrounded it.

"Mrs Boland, how lovely to see you this evening," greeted the butler warmly, and Beth's smile was genuine as she swept past him into the bar.

One quick scan tells her that Rio's not there yet.

Walking to the bar, aware of the eyes that follow her figure in the midnight blue cocktail dress and matching heels, she orders a Bourbon on the rocks and take a seat. A glance at her phone displays no messages from Rio and she settles in to wait, making sure that the luxury shopping bag at her feet, containing $100,000 in cash, is safe.

Taking a sip of her drink, she tries to calm the butterflies in her stomach that take flight every time she pictures the meeting with Rio this evening. She has no idea what she's doing here – and she does find it extremely odd that he would send her money and then direct her to bring it to him, and here of all places – but there's an undeniable excitement buzzing in her veins at the thought of seeing him again, so soon after last night.

Her phone flashes on the bar in front of her and it's a message from Rio. It takes her a moment to understand what she's looking at as a picture appears of an older man, perhaps in his sixties, alongside some text that reads _"Find him at the bar and make the drop."_

Glancing around Beth quickly identified the man from the picture, sitting alone on a couch to the side of the room, scanning the crowd as if waiting for someone. He is wearing a cream suit that is several sizes too small, emphasising the extra weight that he's carrying around his middle.

Sighing, Beth knocks back what's left of her drink as she gathers her purse and the luxury shopping bag and makes her way towards him.

He watches her approach with an unhidden leer and Beth has to work to keep the smile on her face as she takes a seat on the sofa next to him, making sure to place the shopping bag down on the floor in between them.

"Good evening," he drawls, scooting towards her, so that his knee is almost brushing her own, "You're not who I was expecting."

Checking the urge to tug the hem of her dress further down her thighs, Beth laughs through gritted teeth and assures him, "You and me both!"

Wanting to get this over with, she indicates towards the bag at their feet and says quietly, "A gift, from a mutual friend."

Before she knows what's happening there's a clammy hand on her bare thigh and a leering voice whispering in her ear, "He's a very generous man."

Shock immobilises her for the briefest moment and then she's standing before him, purse clutched rigidly in her palm as she fights to keep from slapping his shiny, red face, and she hisses, "Not _that_ generous."

But as she sweeps through the bar with a show of calm that bellies the white-hot fire of her anger, she can't help but wonder.

And, just as quickly, the fire in her veins is turned to ice.

/\/\/\

She knew he would come. When she had ignored each of the two text messages and three phone calls from him, she knew he would come. But she hadn't expected it to be so soon.

She is just out of a scalding hot shower, wrapped in a bathrobe and dragging a brush through her wet hair, when she hears a sound behind her and there he is; one shoulder propped against the bedroom doorframe, his arms folded comfortably across his chest, standing there as if he had been for the last five minutes.

Loath to face him in such a state of undress, to be at any kind of disadvantage when talking to him, she considers kicking him out of the room while she locates some clothing. But then she's damned if she's going to show any sign of weakness.

Placing the brush down calmly on the vanity, she turns to face him, fighting the urge to close the dressing gown more tightly around herself, and simply waits for him to speak.

"I see you haven't lost your phone," he says, voice deceptively calm, as he nods to where it lies discarded on the bedspread. "So, you want to explain to me what's goin' on?"

The silence stretches taught between them.

And then she tells him, the quiet strength of her words sinking like stones into the void, "I am not for sale, Rio."

Pushing upright in one fluid movement, his anger and his voice rising in tandem as he stalks towards her, he barks, "Excuse me?!"

The injustice of his anger serves as tinder to the gasoline of her own fury and she's almost shouting as she splutters, _"'Wear something sexy'?!_ Despite the impression that last night may have given you, I – am – not – for – sale!"

For an unguarded instant he looks as if she has slapped him.

 _But then the shutters are coming down and he asks her quietly, too quietly, "What happened?"_

 _Something about his demeanour is telling her she has this all wrong but she's too angry and too hurt to care._

"What was supposed to happen? You thought that I'd go there, give him your "gift" and that I'd be the bow on top?"

"What _happened,_ Elizabeth?"

The menace in his voice cuts through the haze of anger driving her – that cool threat of bodily harm directed not at her but at anyone that might dare to lay a finger on her – and then she has her answer.

The relief that floods though her at the realisation of his innocence is immense. And all at once she feels silly that she ever thought otherwise, knowing that her reaction and the conclusions that she jumped to had likely been influenced by other factors. Although what exactly those factors are, she is in no rush to analyse.

Dropping her eyes from the blazing anger in his, she murmurs, "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Rio is silent for a moment and then he says seriously, "Look, I ain't no saint. But I ain't no pimp neither. And what I said, about wearing somethin' sexy? I just thought the meeting would be less conspicuous that way."

When she doesn't say anything, he closes the small distance between them and reaches out to tilt her chin up so that she's once again looking him in the eye as he asks her softly, "Darlin', do I strike you as the kind of man that likes to share?"

It hadn't been meant as a come on, she knows that. But suddenly she's finding it hard to breathe – the air around her thick with remembered passion – and there's this heat rising in Rio's eyes that might just consume her whole.

"Elizabeth–"

His reluctant protest is muffled against her lips as she kisses him, nipping at his mouth until his tongue sweeps out to meet her own, and then he's taking control of the kiss; pushing her backwards against the vanity, his left-hand fisting in her hair as his right slips between their bodies to tug at the thick belt of her dressing gown.

The belt gives way and his palm is sweeping up her waist to mould the soft flesh of her breast and to tease the sensitive thrust of her nipple, already taut and ready for his mouth as it leaves hers to trail down her throat and the slope of her breast before fastening over one engorged peak. Beth moans softly as he draws the flesh between his teeth and sucks sharply, just as one denim clad thigh is pushed between her own and her hips undulate against him, begging for more.

She almost blacks out with pleasure when he cups her slick heat in his hand and slides two fingers inside her. Her hoarse cry is muffled against his mouth as he takes her lips again, his wicked fingers moving inside her in a sensual imitation that is at once too much to bear and yet nowhere near enough. And, just as she's riding the final crest of the wave that will take her over, he moves with her, guiding her back towards the bed until she hits the edge and then she's falling, sprawling on to her back, legs dangling over the side where he comes to a stop between them.

Watching the hunger on his face through hooded eyes Beth almost jumps out of her skin as he drops to his knees in front of her, his calloused palms spreading her thighs open before him, murmuring, "I want to taste you."

Then she's seeing stars as he closes his mouth over her, his tongue working expertly against her clit to create such an overpowering flood of pleasure that she is sure can't bear even another second of it. "Rio," her gasp is ragged, "I can't…"

Whatever she is going to say is lost in a scream as his teeth scrape bluntly across the bundle of nerves at her core and a climax rips through her.

Coming back down to earth, her veins are still buzzing with delicious aftershocks moments later as she watches Rio kick off his shoes and join her on the bed with a self-satisfied smile.

Rising onto her knees on the bedspread, she reaches up to capture his mouth in a kiss, tasting the musk of her body on his tongue, and heat pools low in her abdomen.

Already impatient for more, she moves to unbutton his shirt with shaky fingers, casting the garment carelessly aside to expose the muscled expanse of tattooed skin across his torso and that deliciously inviting trail down his abdomen, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. Placing small, open-mouthed kisses across his chest she fumbles with the snap of his jeans and revels in the sound of his breathless laughter as he helps her to remove the final barrier of his clothing.

And then he's coming back to her, placing one warm hand against her chest as he gently pushes her back down against the bedspread, before covering her soft, alabaster body with the hard, honeyed planes of his own. She goes willingly, reaching up to pull his mouth down to hers for a fevered kiss as she undulates against him, rubbing the slick heat between her thighs against the heavy press of his erection; demanding more.

Rio's harsh groan seems torn from him as he sinks the hard thrust of his cock into her, slowly at first and then deliciously harder and faster as they give themselves over to the raw sensuality of the moment, holding nothing back as they move together, in beautiful, sinful synchronicity.

His face is bent towards her, kissing her with an unrestrained passion, as her pleasure starts to spin out of control. But then he's drawing back to look down at her, bracing his weight on the elbows bracketing her head, as he continues to move inside her with an increased urgency that signals his own impending release.

Caught in the dark intensity of his gaze, Beth holds his eye as their bodies strain towards the final peak.

But suddenly the intensity of the moment is too much to bear – the impossible, aching intimacy of it – and she squeezes her eyes shut against the world as it dissolves around her.

/\/\/\

Coming to in a delicious tangle of warm limbs, Beth allows herself one bittersweet moment to bask in it; the heavy press of his weight against her, the warm fan of his breath on her neck, and the suddenly shocking intimacy of his spent body inside her own.

Then she's slipping away from the him, leaving the false comfort of his arms for the chilled confines of the bathroom, telling herself that she simply wants to get cleaned up, that's all.

But it's Ruby's voice in her head, telling her like it is.

 _Girl, you are in so much trouble._


End file.
